Exist
by Anagram for Grace
Summary: Jaelyn Flynn, the disappointing youngest child of her parents, is given a chance to prove herself. With Clary and Jace, can Jaelyn change enough to show she did exist?
1. The Name's Fray, Jaelyn Fray

**Let's be honest, the idea for adding another character to TMI is totally not an original one of mine. But let's just see how this goes. So um yeah. This chapter is rather weak but hey, it'll get better soon... I hope..**

**I do not own the Mortal Instruments series. All credit goes to Cassandra Clare and her awesomeness. Kay? Kay.**

* * *

All I wanted was to go to sleep for ages and maybe never wake up. Ever. But I would have to wake up in only a few hours' time in order to catch the train and leave for our family vacation. I was oh so excited that I'd put off packing for days, just in case some miracle happened and our trip was cancelled. As it is, miracles do not happen to me and therefore I was still awake at four in the morning, packing. And all I had left to pack was the Mortal Instruments trilogy. Books I'd read like a thousand times each.

"Jaelyn!" my mother yelled. "Some of us are trying to sleep! Stop making such a racket!"

I made a face in the general direction of my parents' room. Me? Make a racket? What freaking ever. By the way, I'm Jaelyn Catori Flynn, the sixteen year old disappointing third child of my parents, Ronald and Susan Flynn. I suppose they gave me an exotic name 'cause they expected me to be impressive or something. My brothers are Trevor and Tyler. They actually are impressive.

"Jae, are you done packing?" Tyler asked, popping into my room.

"Yup," I said, zipping shut my duffel bag and tossing it to him. "Thanks for putting it in the car for me."

He over exaggerated the weight of the bag. "If I fall and this thing crushes me to death there will be blood."

"If you die the only blood there will be is yours," I pointed out.

"Shush." With that he staggered away with my things.

I fell back onto my bed, allowing myself a few brief moments of rest.

"Jaelyn! Get up! Time to go!" my mother's voice shrieked, impolitely loud for 5:00am.

I shoved my feet in my shoes and staggered off down the stairs to the waiting rental van/taxi thing that would take us to our train that would take us to Chicago where we would then board a plane and head off to Florida. In the summer. My parents are insane.

I slept on the way to the train and I would like to say I slept on the train but that was impossible seeing as my mother kept scolding me on my appearance. I saw nothing wrong with wearing Vans, skinny jeans, and a t-shirt for traveling. Trevor and Tyler where in sweats but I wasn't dressed nicely enough. It was about eight when it happened.

I guess I passed out randomly from exhaustion or something, but all of a sudden I was no longer sitting on a sweltering train crammed between my family's luggage. I was in the middle of a solidly white room with my duffel bag sitting next to me.

"_Hello," said a young man, possibly mid twenties, walking up to me._

"_Erm hi."_

"_My name is Peliel. You are Jaelyn Catori, correct?" His voice was pleasant, tenor._

"_Yes… Peliel? As in…?"_

"_The angel," he finished for me. "You are familiar with the story of the Mortal Instruments, are you not?"_

_I wasn't sure if he was ending everything in a question to be nice or if that was just how he talked._

"_You mean the books by Cassandra Clare? Yes. But they're just fiction."_

"_In your world. Now Jaelyn, I have a preposition for you. Would you be willing to trade your life for a role in that story?" His expression was patient, his grey eyes soft._

"_Are you serious?"_

_Peliel raised an eyebrow._

"_Of course!"_

_His face broke into a smile. "Good. Occasionally we chose some human to switch the world of. It is a sort of game to us angels. You are the first I have chosen and I hope you shall not let me down. I don't think I could bear the embarrassment if you decided to cop out early."_

"_I don't think I fully understand all of this," I admitted, having a seat on my bag._

"_That is because you don't. Now drink this," he handed me a glass I hadn't noticed before, "you'll need it."_

_I took a sip before I looked at the liquid. It was sweet and salty and strangely metallic. Upon further observance it proved to be thick and gold. "What is this?" I asked, slightly horrified._

"_My blood. You must consume it to be one of the Nephilim."_

"_But it doesn't affect people my age!" I argued._

"_In this place, whatever I want to happen, will happen. You already have angel blood in your veins just by being here. I am giving you an extra advantage for what is to come."_

"_Is that fair?" I asked._

"_There are no rules to this little game. You have read the Hunger Games. Imagine that I am your mentor and this is your preparation."_

"_Training in a cup," I mumbled as I choked down another gulp. I hated the idea that I was drinking angel blood but it made me feel amazing. "Is this like the Hunger Games in any other way?"_

"_Yes. But instead of being in an arena killing other children you shall be in a world killing demons."_

"_Somehow I don't think my mother would approve…"_

"_Promise me you won't back out of this, whatever is to come." Peliel's voice had gained a harsh, controlling edge._

"_I promise. I wouldn't know how to back out anyway."_

"_Death is the only exit."_

_I stared up at him._

"_You have made your choice, you cannot linger here any longer. Your bag will go with you." He turned and walked away from me._

"_Wait! Who am I?" I cried._

_He turned briefly and smiled, already fading. "You are Jaelyn Catori Fray. Your mother and sister call you Jaci."_

_Fray? Fray as in Clary Fray?_

_

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_**Dun dun duuuuuun! Horrible chapter but review it anyway? Just for kicks? **


	2. Peeta and Pandemonium

**I felt like writing more so here you go lovelies. Let me know what you think! -insert something witty here that I can't think of because I'm so hopelessly tired-**

**I don't own the Mortal Instruments... blah blah blah. You get the point.**

* * *

"Jaci! Clary! It's past eight! Time to get up!" called my mom. I sighed and rolled (literally) out of my bed, which happened to be the top bunk. I landed on my feet.

"Do you have to do that every morning?" Clary asked, still in bed.

"Sorry, sis," I said with a grin. "Can't help myself."

Hold on a second. Sis? And my mom's voice didn't sound like that. Ohmyfreakingoodness, I was seriously living in a book. I rushed to the bathroom to check my reflection.

Odd, if Clary was my sister and Jocelyn my mom you'd expect I would look like them, right? Wrong. I still looked like me, average height, pale skin, shiny brown hair, athletic build. The only noticeable difference was my eyes. I used to have hazel green eyes, mossy brown with an iddy biddy ring of gold at the middle. Now my eyes were emerald around the very edges and a bright blazing gold at the center. Weird.

Clary banged on the bathroom door. "C'mon, Jaci! Simon's waiting for us."

Of course! We were supposed to hang out with Simon today! How could I forget? Probably because I'd never known anything about this previously in my life but I found that if I tried, I could remember a different past. A past filled with sharing a room with my baby sister. So she was only a year younger than me, but seriously. She was tiny and soft. She was my baby sister.

I ran back to our room and threw on an outfit from my side of the dresser, not really caring what I looked like. We were hanging out with Simon. He was like family. Clary was waiting in the kitchen.

"We need some more toothpaste, Mom," I said to Jocelyn as I passed her on my way to the fridge. Part of me was freaking out about how I was acting in someone else's house while the other part screamed at that part to shut up because I'd done this every day of my life.

"It's already on the list."

"The orange juice is already on the counter," Clary said, pointing. Weird that she knew exactly what I was looking for.

"Thankies," I said, pouring myself a glass and returning the carton to the fridge.

"Will you hurry?" Clary said impatiently.

I grinned at her annoyance and took my sweet time sipping my juice. "So what are you going to be up to today, Joc-Mom?"

Her expression showed the tiniest bit of hurt when I slipped on the name; apparently I did that a lot. It wasn't hard to understand why; I didn't look like either of them. Was I even related? I speculated. My birth wouldn't fit in with the timeline of the story but maybe Peliel changed that somehow.

"Painting, I'll probably stop by the book store and help Luke." She waved her hand dismissively.

"Will you hurry up, Jaci?" She was getting really frustrated now. I downed the rest of my juice and followed her to the door.

"Bye, Mom!" I called.

"We'll be back by midnight! We're going to Pandemonium later," Clary added.

I could hear Jocelyn sigh as we shut the door and headed down the stairs. Simon was waiting just outside the building.

"Where to?" he asked, not bothering with a greeting.

"Humane Society?" I suggested. In both of my pasts I had always loved animals. Besides, my birthday was in a couple days and no one knew what to get me. Maybe I could convince Jocelyn to let me get myself a cat?

"Alright." And we were off.

Being with Simon and Clary I didn't have to talk much, I was allowed to think in silence.

I thought about my past. Ever since I could remember I had lived in the little apartment with Clary and Jocelyn. The only father figure I could remember was Luke. Or was he? Sometimes I would have dreams about a man who I was pretty sure wasn't Luke. Those dreams were always kind of bleary, but happy. Could they be memories from tiny me? Was I remembering Valentine? I knew Valentine was Clary's dad, I knew I was a Shadowhunter but I also knew I could say nothing about it.

I also knew I still had the Sight while Jocelyn had Clary's routinely erased. And I also knew I knew how to be a Shadowhunter. Every night I had vivid dreams about creatures I saw during the day, creatures no one else saw. I once told Clary but she had looked at me as though I was crazy and I never mentioned it again.

While I had been thinking we had arrived at our destination. I was the first one through the door and almost immediately in the cat area.

Maybe I had the dreams because of the extra angel blood Peliel had given me? Maybe it wasn't possible for Jocelyn to have my Sight erased. I could clearly remember the warlock's loft in Brooklyn. I knew Clary was clueless.

Then I started paying attention to the cats around me. All of them, and I really mean all of them, were solid black. I found that strange until I saw three that were off in cages by themselves. One of them had an adorable white tipped tail while another had four cute little white paws. I fussed over them for a few minutes, barely noticing the third. Finally I moved onto the next cage. The cat that stared back at me had a perfect tuxedo pattern. And he was tiny.

"Clary! Simon!" I yelled. They came rushing over to me. "I think I found the love of my life!"

After a quick call to Jocelyn, we were heading back to the apartment, me carrying my new kitten, Peeta. I'd figured the name reference was appropriate.

* * *

"You've got to be kidding me," the bouncer said, folding his arms across his massive chest. He glared at the blue haired boy and shook his head. "You can't bring that thing in here."

We were lined up outside of Pandemonium Club and this was the most entertainment we'd had for at least forty-five minutes. Clary had insisted we go even though I was game for spending time with my new kitteh. That was when I'd realized I was at the beginning of City of Bones. Let the games begin, I mentally said to Peliel.

"Aw, come on," the kid said, holding up a tapered wooden beam. "It's part of my costume."

"Which is what?" the bouncer asked, skeptically.

The blue haired kid grinned. His teeth looked sharp and his eyes were weird. I was on alert immediately. For some reason I felt I should know something more about him then I did. I could tell Clary thought he was cute. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, she was transfixed.

"I'm a vampire slayer." He demonstrated that the _thing _bent. "It's fake. Foam rubber. See?"

"Whatever. Go on in."

My eyes narrowed as I watched to boy enter the club. I didn't like the way he walked but I could see that Clary did. Jocelyn would not have approved.

"You thought he was cute, didn't you?" Simon asked.

I laughed softly as Clary elbowed him in the ribs. Not so subtle, sis.

"So, pretty good music, eh?" Simon attempted to start a conversation as they danced. I stood beside them, keeping a watchful eye out for the boy. I was not a fan, I just wish I could remember why I didn't like him… I hadn't read the first book in a while…

Neither one of us answered and I noted that Clary was also watching for the boy. Deftly, I avoided a kid handing out ecstasy. Straight edge, please.

"I, for one, am enjoying myself immensely," Simon continued when we didn't answer. Poor kid. He looked miserable. None of us belonged here.

"Mmmhmmm," Clary answered. I wish she'd be more talkative. Simon wasn't _my _best friend and the fact that I'd know him for most of my life _and _that I hadn't met him until this morning really freaked me out.

My eyes snapped back to the blue haired boy as he began to follow a girl in a long white dress. The dress was too long for the club. I was curious. She was gorgeous. Isabelle, I realized but quickly forgot.

I saw Clary frown, taking in her appearance and then sigh as though in defeat. She hadn't even talked to the guy! But there was my sister for you, a bit too boy crazy for her own good.

"I feel that this evening DJ Bat is doing a singularly exceptional job. Don't you agree?" Simon jabbered away.

"Oh yes, lots of angry screaming," I agreed. Clary rolled her eyes. We all hated the music. I was amazed at her multitasking abilities. How could she be talking to us, dancing, and creeping on that boy? I noticed her eyes narrowed and I snapped my attention over to Isabelle and the kid. They were being followed, closely.

"Meanwhile," Simon added, "I wanted to tell you that lately I've been cross-dressing. Also, I'm sleeping with your mom. I though you should know."

"Simon!" we both yelled.

"What? I'm not really sleeping with your mom, you know. I was just trying to get your attention. Not that your mom isn't a very attractive woman, for her age."

I couldn't help laughing but Clary looked rather unamused.

"Do you see those guys?" She pointed, receiving a death glare from a nearby dancer. I looked and saw she was talking about the boys who had been stalking the couple. "Sorry," she apologized to the dancer. "Do you see those two guys over there? By that door?"

I nodded infinitesimally.

"I don't see anything," Simon shrugged.

"There are two of them. They were following the guy with the blue hair…"

"The one you thought was cute?" I interrupted with a smile.

She shot me a look. "Yes but that's not the point. The blonde one pulled a knife."

"Are you sure?" He checked again. "I still don't see anyone."

But I did and I knew exactly what she was talking about.

"I'm sure," we said together.

Simon stood up a bit taller. "I'll get one of the security guards. You stay here." And away he went.

A moment later, Clary headed off towards the storage room. With a sigh I tagged along. Mom would kill me if she got hurt…

She pushed open the door and stepped in. I barely had room to slide in after her before the door closed. I could see them immediately but Clary looked momentarily lost as she went to untangle her shoe from all the chords on the floor. Then her head snapped up and I knew she saw everything I did.

There was Isabelle, Alec, and Jace. The blue haired boy was tied up. I stared at some of my favorite fictional characters. Alec and Isabelle were so tall! Jace was tall too, but not quite as tall as I imagined him… But he did look every bit as gorgeous as I'd imagined… yum…

"So," Jace said, striking up an interrogational pose in front of the kid. "You still haven't told me if there any others of your kind with you."

Clary cast me a confused glance. Ah, the kid's a demon, I remembered. Then it struck me, I was hiding in a storage room with my baby sister and three Shadowhunters and a demon. If Jocelyn ever found out I'd be dead in seconds.

I tried my best not to sigh as Clary moved closer. Of course, I followed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he boy spat.

"He means other demons," Alec explained. "You do know what a demon is, don't you?"

No answer.

"Demons," Jace drawled, going all professor-like on us. "Religiously defined as hell's denizens, the servants of Satan, but understood here, for the purposes of the Clave, to be any malevolent spirit whose origin is outside our own home dimension-"

"That's enough, Jace," Isabelle cut him off.

"Isabelle's right," Alec agreed. "Nobody here needs a lesson in semantics – or demonology."

Clary could, I mused. I knew more than she did. Yay advantage!

Jace smiled and my heart skipped. He was beautiful in a lion-turned-human sort of way.

"Isabelle and Alec think I talk too much," he said. "Do you think I talk to much?"

No!

"I could give you information," the demon spluttered. "I know where Valentine is."

The two boys exchanged looks.

"Valentine's in the ground," Jace said. "The thing's just toying with us."

"Kill it, Jace. It's not going to tell us anything," Isabelle hissed. She spared a look of disgust for the demon.

Jace raised his knife, ready to deliver the fatal blow. Clary was growing very bouncy beside me.

"Valentine is back!" the demon gasped, trying to lengthen his life. "All the Infernal Worlds know it – I know it – I can tell you where he is!" His weird green eyes were pleading.

Big mistake. Jace was now royally pissed off. "By the Angel, every time we capture one of you bastards, you claim you know where Valentine is. Well, we know where he is too. He's in hell. And you," he paused for theatrics. Hey, if his Shadowhunting career fails, he could always act. "You can _join him there_."

Clary moved before I could stop her. "Stop! You can't do this."

I cursed under my breath and moved to stand next to her. I _knew_ this was coming…

The nephilim turned to stare at us, aghast. The demon struggled to get free unnoticed.

"Wh-what's this?" Alec demanded, finding his voice, looking from Clary and me to his companions. Sorry, Jace and Isabelle are clueless too, Alec.

"They're girls," Jace said, his tone bored. "Surely you've seen girls before, Alec. Your sister Isabelle is one." He scrutinized us. "Mundie girls. And they can see you."

"Of course we can see you," Clary nearly shouted. "I'm not blind, you know."

"Oh, but you are," Jace murmured, picking up the knife he dropped. "You just don't know it. You'd better get out of here, if you know what's good for you."

"I'm not going anywhere," she was stubborn, "if I do, you'll kill him."

"Clary-" I breathed.

"That's true," Jace admitted with a and-your-point-is? grin. "What do you care if I kill him or not?"

"Be-because-" she stuttered. "You can't just go around killing people.

"You're right, you _can't _go around killing people," I said. "But he's not a person, is he?"

Everyone in the room stared at me in amazement.

"You're right…" Jace eyed me cautiously. "That's not a person. It may look like a person and talk like a person and maybe even bleed like a person."

"But he's a monster," I finished for him quietly.

"Jace, that's enough," Isabelle hissed, freaked out by what I knew.

"You're crazy," Clary accused. Ouch, that hurt. "I've called the police, you know. They'll be here any second."

"She's lying," Alec tried to convince himself. They were all a bit shook up at the moment, no thanks to me. "Jace, do you-"

But the demon cut him off by attacking Jace. Clary gave a frightened shriek and tried to run but tripped, knocking the wind out of herself. I rushed to help her.

I didn't look, but I knew what was happening as I got her back to her feet. Jace would be losing to the demon but Isabelle and Alec would soon be, if they weren't already, joining the fight. I heard the swish of Isabelle's whip and the resulting cry from the creature.

I turned back around in time to see Jace stab the demon. It was all very dramatic, blood everywhere, lots of twisting and gurgling. I was disturbed by the lack of disturbance I felt as I watched him twitch.

"_So be it. The Forsaken will take you all_," the monster hissed before having the decency to fold in on himself and return to his own dimension. Clary clung to me desperately as we watched, trying to get me to back away with her.

Isabelle was waiting for us, of course. She flicked her whip, catching Clary around the wrist and slicing my cheek in the process.

"Ouch," I said, offended.

"Stupid little mundie, you could have gotten Jace killed," Isabelle growled, ignoring me completely.

"He's crazy," Clary gasped, trying to break free. "You're all crazy. What do you think you are, vigilante killers? The police-"

"The police aren't usually interested unless you can produce a body," Jace pointed out. He made his way over to his, babying his arm. Alec followed looking sinister.

Clary glanced over my shoulder at where the boy had been.

"They return to their home dimensions when they die, in case you were wondering.

"Jace," Alec hissed. "Be careful."

"They can see us, Alec, they already know too much."

"So what do you want me to do with her?" Isabelle nodded to Clary. I guess I was just going to be ignored.

"Let her go," Jace commanded. Isabelle looked surly as she released Clary.

"Maybe we should bring _her _back with us," Alec suggested, nodding to me. "I bet Hodge would like to talk to her. What with her knowing what she knows."

"No way are we bringing her to the Institute," Isabelle argued. "She's a _mundie_."

"Or is she?" Jace questioned. He stepped closer, examining me, Clary forgotten for the moment. I didn't like this. Clary was the important one, I was just an extra character, not even part of the original script. "Have you had dealings with demons, little girl? Walked with warlocks, talked with the Night Children? Have you-"

"Her name is not 'little girl,'" Clary interrupted, defending me. "And we have no idea what you're talking about." I wanted to whisper "I do" but that probably wouldn't have gone over very well. "We don't believe in – in demons, or whatever you-"

"Clary? Jaci?" Simon called, standing by the door. He was accompanied by a bouncer.

"Are you two okay?" He checked the room for the murderers who were standing right by us. "What happened to the guys – you know, the ones with the knives.

Clary looked terrified, looking around. Jace grinned at us cockily and I shrugged one shoulder in an attempt at apology. I knew how she felt, she felt exactly the way I did when I saw things no one else did. Full moon crazy.

"I thought they went in here, but I guess they didn't. I'm sorry."

I looked down, embarrassed but reassured. If I was actually crazy, at least my sister was now too.

"It was a mistake," she finished.

Behind us, Isabelle giggled.

* * *

"I don't believe it," Simon said as we stood at the curb, attempting to hail a cab.

"I know," I agreed. "You'd think there'd be some cabs."

"Where is everyone going at midnight on a Sunday?" Clary asked. "You guys think we'd have better luck on Houston?"

"Not the cabs," he glared at us. I did my best to look innocent. "You – I don't believe you. I don't believe those guys with the knives just disappeared."

My sister sighed heavily, suddenly sounding very tired. "Maybe there weren't any guys with knives, Simon. Maybe I just imagined the whole thing."

"Both of you?" He frantically attempted to wave down a cab. "No way. I saw your faces when I came into that storage room. You looked seriously freaked out, Clary, like you'd seen a ghost. Jaci, you looked…"

"Crazy?" I suggested.

"Mad."

I shrugged. I was mad. Mad that Isabelle had sliced my face. I self-consciously reached to touch the gash; I'd explained it off by telling everyone I'd tripped.

"It was a mistake," Clary repeated. So we were sticking with the lie then?

"Well, it was a hell of an embarrassing mistake. I doubt they'll ever let us back into Pandemonium."

"What do you care?" Clary asked.

"You hate Pandemonium," I pointed out as a cab finally pulled over for us.

"Finally we get lucky." Simon dove into the plastic coated safety of the cab, avoiding Clary's question and quickly giving the cabbie the address. "Look, you know you can tell me anything, right?"

He wasn't talking to me, only Clary. Who nodded her head jerkily. "Sure, Simon. I know I can."

* * *

**I'm aware that this chapter followed the book *very* closely but that's gonna happen sometimes, okee? It'll change though, I promise. There shall be twists!**


	3. Certifiably Insane

**Lookie lookie lookie! I updated again! Just so you're aware, this story is not going to follow the book this closely in the future chapters seeing as it's about Jaelyn, not Clary. Are we clear? -insert affirmative-**

**Anywho, please read and review.**

* * *

He stared at me with his wide blue-grey eyes, one paw raised, ready to bat my face. I poked his little white tummy and he jumped and scampered away a few feet before crawling back over to me. Clary sighed from her bed and threw another piece of paper on the floor. Peeta attacked it.

"Having difficulties?" I asked once her headphones followed the paper.

She blinked at me, confused. "Is that the phone?" Without waiting for an answer, she jumped over Peeta and me and ran to the living room to answer it. Peeta looked at me and tilted his head.

"I don't know either, kitty," I said, scratching his ears. His back arched into my touch and he immediately started purring. "Wonder who she's talking to…"

"SIMON!"

"Oh, I bet it's Simon. She doesn't scream like that at anyone else."

I pretended that Peeta agreed with me. He was so gosh darn adorable! He made being grounded much more bearable. I think Clary and I would drive each other crazy if we weren't otherwise distracted. Jocelyn had been upset with me when we'd gotten home late. I personally think it would have made more sense to ground the cabbie but that was just my opinion. And I couldn't see how it was fair that Clary hadn't definitely been grounded while I had.

But if Clary went somewhere, I would be sent by Jocelyn to tag along. That's how it went. Clary was the apple of her eye, I was her other eye watching her apple. Make sense? No, not really.

I heard the phone be returned to the cradle and then Clary's footsteps moving about the room. She must be in a thoughtful mood to be scrutinizing our apartment. Not that I hadn't been awake at three in the morning doing the exact same thing. I'd seen everything, Jocelyn's beautiful paintings, the artistic taste present in the interior decorating, the single picture of the man who Jocelyn claimed was our father. He looked nothing like either of us aside from the fact that he had two eyes, two ears, a nose, and a mouth. He could have been any man on the street.

Which, part of me knew, was pretty close to the truth.

I heard the door open and Clary flop onto the couch, most likely with a book. I continued romping around with Peeta, safe in our orange room.

"Luke!" I heard Clary cry.

I scooped up Peeta and went to say hi.

Luke was standing in the doorway, carrying a stack of flattened boxes.

"Where's Mom?" I asked.

"Parking the truck," he answered. "Remind me again why this building has no service elevator?"

"Because it's old, and has character," we recited.

"What are the boxes for?" Clary asked.

I'm pretty sure even Peeta noticed the awkward pause.

"Your mother wanted to pack up some things."

"What things?" Clary interrogated, growing suspicious.

He waved his hand and gave some lame excuse. "What are you two up to? Studying?" He snatched Clary's book and read a portion. "The world still teems with those motley beings whom a more sober philosophy has discarded. Fairies and goblins, ghosts and demons, still hover about- Is this for school?"

"The Golden Bough? No. School's not for two weeks. It's my mom's."

"I had a feeling.

And I had a feeling that wasn't just some random book left lying about.

"Luke?" Clary asked.

"Uh huh?" He was busy searching through a tool kit, "Ah, here it is." Apparently he found whatever.

"What would you do if you saw something nobody else could see?"

I stared at my sister, she gave me a meaningful look back.

"You mean if I were the only witness to a crime, that sort of thing?" His response didn't even make sense for her question. Now I was suspicious.

"No. I mean, if there were other people around, but you were the only one who could see something. As if it were invisible to everyone but you."

I resumed my staring at Clary. Was she honestly going to tell Luke about what happened at the club? No, said old-me-voice. She doesn't get around to it.

"I know it sounds crazy, but…"

Luke turned to look at her. "Clary, you're an artist, like your mother. That means you see the world in ways that other people don't. It's your gift, to see beauty and the horror in ordinary things. It doesn't make you crazy – just different. There's nothing wrong with being different."

"What about me?" I whispered so softly I didn't think they heard me. They acted like they didn't. This wasn't new to me, I was always the awkward, quiet one.

"If our dad had lived, do you think he'd have been an artist too?" Clary asked.

Luke blinked slowly. Then the door swung open and Jocelyn walked in, her dark red hair in a knot at the back of her head. She looked like she'd just been painting.

"Thanks for bringing the boxes up," Jocelyn said to Luke with a smile he didn't return. Tension! "Sorry it took me so long to find a space. There must be a million people at the park today-"

"Mom? What are the boxes for?" Clary was never one to beat around the bush.

"Jaci, there's some stuff I picked up for your cat in the truck, help me bring it up?" Luke asked me. I got the hint and set Peeta down before following him out the door.

"Luke, do you actually have anything for me to get or is this some horrible distraction?" Clary wasn't the only blunt one in the family. "'Cause if it's the latter, I'd rather just sit here than walk down the stairs for no reason."

His smile was the smallest bit forced. "You caught me. Jocelyn figured it'd go over better if you and Clary didn't find out at the same time. We're all going on… vacation."

"Vacation?" I asked, raising one eyebrow, a talent I didn't know I had.

He nodded. "Upstate. For the rest of the summer."

"Oooh." Now I saw the reason for the separation. Clary had her snazzy art classes and she would not be a fan about having to miss them. I would back her up and make it so there was that much more resistance. "Isn't this rather last minute?" I asked using a harsher tone than before.

Luke looked tired. Inside the apartment I could hear the raised voices of Clary and Jocelyn.

"Why didn't my mom tell me herself?"

Fidgeting did not become Luke but he was spared answering by the door opening. It was Jocelyn. They had a whispered conversation. I caught only the word "bane". Which one of us was she talking about? I wondered.

"Jocelyn, you can't keep going to him forever," Luke warned.

"But Clary-"

"Isn't Jonathan. You've never been the same since it happened, but Clary isn't Jonathan. And neither is Jaelyn."

So strange, did they know I could hear them quite easily? I was concentrating on the conversation so much, I didn't notice Simon until he was standing on the step below me.

"Jesus!" I cried.

"Actually, it's just me." He smiled and pulled me to my feet. "Although I've been told the resemblance is startling." He peeked through the door at Clary. "You ready?"

"Simon, were you eavesdropping?" my mother asked, very suspicious.

"No, I just got here. Is something wrong? Should I go?"

"Don't bother, I think we're done here." Luke pushed past us and raced down the stairs.

Poor Simon looked so very awkward. "I can come back later… Really, it wouldn't be a problem."

Jocelyn went to say something but Clary cut her off. "Forget it, Simon. We're leaving." She grabbed her bag and tossed me my phone and shoes. "See you later, Mom."

"Clary, don't you think we should talk about this?"

"We'll have plenty of time to talk while we're on 'vacation,'" Clary spat. "Don't wait up."

"Feed Peeta for me?" I asked as Clary grabbed my wrist and drug me down the stairs.

"Bye, Mrs. Fray!" Simon called, ever the gentleman. "Have a nice evening!"

"Shut up," Clary snapped.

Simon stared at me but I was almost as lost as him.

"Ow, Clary," I reminded her.

"Sorry." She released me from her viselike grip.

As we passed Madame Dorthea's apartment I saw a man who _had_ to be Magnus but he vanished in an instant, making me doubt myself for the millionth time in my life.

"Are you all right?" Simon asked Clary. "You look like you're going to pass out."

"What? No I'm fine."

"Did you see…?" I trailed off at the look of deep concentration on her face.

"Dorthea's cat? I think it was just a trick of the light."

I stared at her. A tall sparkling man was most definitely not a cat.

"I haven't eaten much," she defended herself. "I guess I'm a little out of it."

"Come on, I'll buy you both some food."

"I can't believe she's being like this!" Clary sighed. Again. Playing with her food. Mexican. Blergh. It never sat well with me so I sipped on a Sprite during our group therapy session. She continued on about being grounded all the time and such and now this exile thingummy.

Simon was playing the part of the funny stress reliever. I played the part of the crazy girl concerned about her cat, zoning out. I knew this scene from the book, I wasn't really needed to be there. I was brought out of my happy place by the insistent ring of Clary's phone.

"That's mom," I commented. "You going to talk to her?"

"Not right now." I could tell she already felt guilty about it. "I don't want to fight with her."

"You can always stay at my house," Simon offered. "For as long as you want."

"We'll see if she calms down first." Clary checked her voicemail while I checked my phone.

"She's not too worried yet. She hasn't called me," I noted.

"She wants to talk about it," Clary announced.

"Do you want to talk to her?" Simon was always so understanding.

"I don't know. Are you still going to the poetry reading?"

"I promised I would."

They both stood up to go. "Then I'll go with you. I'll call her when it's over."

She swung her bag onto her shoulder but it slid down. Simon fixed it. I raised an eyebrow but they ignored me and left the restaurant.

Feeling slightly annoyed, I followed, too far behind to hear them. Had they realized that they'd forgotten I was there? Probably not. I scowled and kicked at cracks in the sidewalk. From where I was, the two looked like they were flirting and I probably looked like a scary stalker but who's judging?

I cast a second glance at a small toddler playing with a very realistic looking doll with fluttering wings. I can't believe I used to tell people about the things I saw. No wonder everyone treated me like I was certified.

* * *

**Awe, poor Jaelyn. Think about it, wouldn't it suck to be Clary's sister? Eesh. **

**Always remember, reviews make my life so make my life people! If necessary, I will write a song about reviews. That is a threat.**


	4. No One Sees It

**I forgot to mention this in the last chapter, but I figured you knew. I don't own the Mortal Instruments. If I did, Jaelyn probably would have been involved the first time around, as it is... this is a fanfic. So review? Please?**

* * *

By the time I got to the coffee shop, Simon's friend we were there to see was already "performing" and Simon and Clary were settled in a loveseat towards the back. I made my way over to them, feeling awkward.

"Hi," I said, trying my best not to sound angry when I reached them.

Clary stared at me. "You came here?"

"You drug me out of the house, remember?" I matched her tone.

"That doesn't mean you have to follow me everywhere!" she hissed. Simon looked alarmed. "Mom sent you, didn't she?" she continued.

"Actually, no, I just didn't feel like being left in some gross Mexican restaurant by myself and I was under the impression you wanted me to come along." I was pissed.

"Well, go find someone else to hang out with if you want to be here so badly," Clary spat.

I smirked unpleasantly and turned on my heel. "Maybe I will."

Ordering something seemed like a good way to waste time. Maybe Clary would be calmed down by that point and I would be allowed back into her tree house. That was when I saw him. Judging by the lack of interest, I was the only one who did. Curious, I moved over to where he sat and settled down at the opposite end of the same sofa. He was busy observing Clary and Simon and hadn't recognized me.

"I can still see you," I murmured out of the corner of my mouth, pretending to be very interested in my nails.

I could sense his golden eyes on me. "You."

Glancing up, I met his gaze. "Me. Having fun?" I nodded towards Clary and Simon.

Jace smirked. "It's entertaining."

"Is it now? I wouldn't know, I'm not allowed." I tried not to sound as upset as I felt.

"I saw that. I'll catch you up, the mundie is attempting to confess his undying love for her and she is completely clueless."

"Not surprising," I mumbled.

"Well I must be going. Maybe you'll see me around." He waved at Clary who was staring back at us, got to his feet and left. Clary looked startled, Simon distressed. Before she could beat me to it, I followed Jace outside.

A moment later Clary burst through the door after me. Jace glanced up in surprise at the site of us."

"Your friend's poetry is terrible," he said.

"He's not my friend," I muttered.

"What? Clary asked, caught off guard.

"I said his poetry was terrible. It sounds like he ate a dictionary and started vomiting up words at random."

Clary was growing angry; it made her get even more red. "I don't care about Eric's poetry. I want to know why you're following me."

"Who said I was following _you_?" he countered, casting me a glance.

Because no one in their right mind would follow me.

"Nice try." Ouch, sis! "And you were eavesdropping, too. Do you want to tell me what this is about, or should I just call the police?"

"And tell them what?" He sounded bored. "That invisible people are bothering you? Trust me, little girl, the police aren't going to arrest someone they can't see."

"She's not a little girl," I sighed. "Her name's Clary."

"I know. Pretty name. Like the herb, clary sage. In the old days people thought eating the seed would let you see the Fair Folk. Did you know that?"

"Yes," I said while Clary said "No."

He turned a contemptuous glare on Clary. "You don't know much, do you? You seem to be a mundane like any other mundane, yet you can see me. It's a conundrum."

"What's a mundane?"

"Someone of the human world. Someone like you."

"But you're human," Clary pointed out.

"I am," Jace admitted. "But I'm not like you." He turned to me. "You seem like you might be like me, though."

"Me?" I asked. "How can I be like you if she's not? She's my sister."

He looked surprised. "I don't see it."

"Neither does the rest of the world." I sighed heavily.

"What's your name?"

"Jaelyn, but I go by Jaci."

"I didn't know 'Jaci' was short for 'Jaelyn.'" He was smirking again. Adorable.

"It's not," Clary hissed.

Jace chuckled.

"You think you're better. That's why you laugh at us," she continued.

"What? Earlier I was laughing because declarations of love amuse me, especially when unrequited. And because your Simon is one of the most mundane mundanes I've ever encountered. And because Hodge thought _you _might be dangerous, but if you are, you certainly don't know it."

"I'm dangerous? I saw you kill someone last night. I saw you drive a knife up under his ribs and-" She seemed unable to continue.

"We saw him almost kill you with his bare hands," I finished. "And now you're fine."

"I may be a killer," Jace was addressing me, "But I know what I am. Can you say the same?"

I blinked, unsure.

"I'm an ordinary human being, just like you said," Clary answered. "Who's Hodge?"

"My tutor. And I wouldn't be so quick to brand myself as ordinary, if I were you. Let me see your right hands." I personally didn't like his bossy tone and shoved my hands in my pockets.

"My right hand?" Clary echoed again. "If I show you my hand, will you leave us alone?"

"Certainly." I could hear his lie.

She held her hand out for inspection but I childishly, did not.

"Nothing," he announced. "You're not left handed, are you?"

"No. Why?" She was suspicious again.

Jace shrugged dismissively. "Most Shadowhunter children get Marked on their right hands – or left, if they're left handed like I am – when they're still young. It's a permanent rune that lends an extra skill with weapons." He showed us the back of his hand. It was pretty, reminding me a bit of an eye and looking very familiar.

"I don't see anything," Clary sounded irritated.

"Let your mind relax, wait for it to come to you. Like waiting for something to rise to the surface of water."

"You're crazy."

"That's what you used to tell me before you started seeing things too," I pointed out.

That was all the convincing Clary needed to follow Jace's instructions.

"A tattoo?" she asked.

He lowered his hand. "I thought you could do it. And it's not a tattoo – it's a Mark. They're runes, burned into our skin."

"They make you handle weapons better?" Clary asked.

"That _is _what he said."

Jace laughed slightly. "Different Marks do different things. Some are permanent but the majority vanish when they've been used."

"That's why your arms aren't all inked up today? Even when I concentrate?"

"That's exactly why. I knew you had the Sight, at least." He glanced up. "It's nearly full dark. We should go."

"We?" Ooo Clary's voice was getting sassy. "I thought you were going to leave us alone."

"I lied," he said with a shrug.

"Why am I not surprised?" I mused.

"Hodge said I have to bring you to the Institute with me. He wants to talk to you."

"Why would he want to talk to me?" Clary demanded.

"Not _you_, _you_ plural. He wants to talk to you both. You know the truth, there hasn't been any mundane who knew about us for at least a hundred years."

"About us?" See, this is why I chose to be quiet, Clary's repetitiveness made her sound like a broken record. "You mean people like you. People who believe in demons."

"People who kill them," Jace corrected. "We're called Shadowhunters. At least, that's what we call ourselves. The Downworlders have less complimentary names for us."

"Downworlders?" Shush, Clary, just shush.

"The Night Children. Warlocks. The fey. The magical folk of this dimension."

"Don't stop there. I suppose there are also, what, vampires and werewolves and zombies?" Clary tried for sarcasm.

"Of course there are," he didn't seem to be fazed. "Although you mostly find zombies farther south, were the voudun priests are."

"What about mummies?" I joked. "Do they only hang around Egypt?"

"Don't be ridiculous. No one believes in mummies."

"They don't?" No one had informed me of this.

"Of course not. Look, Hodge will explain all this to you when you see him."

But Clary was going to be stubborn. "What if we don't want to see him?"

"That's your problem. You can come either willingly or unwillingly."

I tried my best not to laugh but failed. There was nothing funny about Jace, it was just – oh wow. It was just the situation was unreasonably hilarious.

They both stared at me. Then Clary's phone rang. Jace gave her permission to answer which sent me into another fit of giggles.

But I became serious abruptly when I heard Jocelyn's stressed voice from the little mobile device. Before the conversation had ended, I yanked on Clary's arm, pulling her toward home and causing her to drop her phone, which broke.

"Dammit, Jaci!" she cried, retrieving her phone and throwing it down again.

"Stop that. Has something happened?" Jace asked.

"Give me your phone," Clary demanded, grabbing something out of his pocket.

"That's not a phone. It's a Sensor. You won't be able to use it."

"But I need to call the police!"

"Tell me what happened first," Jace said. "I can help you."

"Clary, what's going on?" I asked.

I saw her change. She gathered herself and slapped him, breaking into a run. "C'mon, Jaci!"

Growing steadily more terrified, I sprinted after her. Something very terrible was happening and I had a feeling Jace would have been some nice help to have.


	5. Biggest Hurry of Your Life

**Fact: Because I'm having so much fun writing this story, I write it veeery quickly. Fact: Pree much no one reads this story, but I can still pretend, right?**

**Fact: I do not own City of Bones.**

**Fact: Some (lots) of these lines are straight from the book, I am aware of that and all credit goes to Cassandra Clare and her epic cleverness.**

* * *

It was hot and the run was long but I'd been training for the upcoming cross country season and soon overtook Clary. I sprinted through a blinking WALK sign, barely making it. I slowed down though when I saw the lights were on, meaning Jocelyn was home. I suppose that should have calmed me, but it didn't.

"Wait for me, Jaci," Clary called from a little ways back.

She could catch up with me if she wanted to. And she did.

Together we stepped in the entryway which was shrouded in darkness.

"And just where do you think you're going?" Madame Dorthea called out of the darkness.

"What-"

She was sitting in an armchair in front of her apartment as though she'd been waiting for us.

"Your mother has been making a god-awful racket up there. What's she doing? Moving furniture?" Dorothea asked looking rather disgruntled.

"I don't think-" I began.

"And the stairwell light's burned out, did you notice? Can't your mother get her boyfriend to change it?"

"Luke isn't-" Tonight obviously wasn't the night for finishing thoughts.

"The skylight needs washing too," I noted. "I suppose you want us to take care of that as well?"

Dorothea nodded her head grandly. "You'd better."

Together we raced up the stairs, all the bitterness from earlier forgotten in our shared panic. The door was already slightly open, a crack of light shining through. We glanced at each other and then Clary opened the door.

She paused just inside the door while I rushed on to the living room. The windows were open but that was forgotten when I noticed that everything had been destroyed. Pillow stuffing rolled around on the floor from the breeze, like some creepy deserted ghost town. Music from the piano bench was scattered everywhere, the piece I had been working on was ripped down the center. And then the paintings. They looked as though someone had fed them through a paper shredder, all cut into ribbons.

"Mom!" Clary cried. "Where are you? Mommy!"

Her use of that childhood endearment terrified me into motion.

"Check the kitchen, I'll check the bathroom," I ordered, moving off on my self-assigned task. It was obvious Jocelyn wasn't in the bathroom, either dead or alive though I'd been rather terrified when I'd pulled back the shower curtain. There, crouched shaking, as small as he could possibly get, was Peeta.

"Shh, kitty, I got you," I cooed, picking him up and holding him to me, his fur was damp in some places and stuck to my arms. I carried him into our room and set him down on the bed. This room was in perfect order, so I set Peeta down and shut the door, going to find Clary.

I heard a heavy thud and then Clary screaming from our mother's room. I had to fight back the urge to vomit when I saw the thing.

It was long and scaled, like an alligator, but it had more than two eyes set in a cluster on its face. Its several legs were preparing to spring and its barbed tail whipped side to side.

What happened then happened all at once. Clary fell, the thing leaped, and I grabbed its tail, gasping in pain as one of the barbs grazed my shoulder. It missed her by inches, but now it was aware of me. It whirled around to face me, spitting out words.

"Girl. Flesh. Blood. To eat, oh, to eat."

I couldn't move as it approached. This is it, I thought. Sorry Peliel, let you down already.

Something smashed against the things head. Annoyed, it turned to Clary again. "Bones, to crunch, to suck out the marrow, to drink the veins…"

She was cornered. I grabbed the thing's tail again, trying to pull it off, but it would have none of that.

"The Sensor!" I yelled.

The creature stabbed my shoulder again with its tail and lunged at Clary, dragging me along with. Everything was starting to become blurry to me.

She screamed and the thing started twitching. She reached for me and I helped her jump over it and we were racing towards the door. Something whistled through the air and Clary collapsed into my injured arms. My only thought was to get away from the beast but I couldn't manage more than five steps before my knees gave out.

"Jaci?"

Blackness.

Someone was hitting my face repetitively. "Jaci, c'mon Jaci. I know you're still here."

I reached up and caught Jace's wrist. "Didn't anyone tell you not to hit girls?"

His white grin showed above me. "Didn't anyone tell you it's rude to make one person carry two unconscious bodies by himself?" Gently he hauled me to my feet. We were still in the apartment and Clary still lay on the floor.

Every joint in my body flared with pain and I had the incredible urge to vomit. On the edges of my vision patterns of darkness swirled. I couldn't even feel my shoulder anymore and I was too terrified to look.

"Where's it worst?" he asked, steadying me.

"Shoulder," I hissed between clenched teeth. "Get Clary out of here," I ordered.

"And you'll take care of yourself?" His tone was skeptical.

"No, I'm going to take care of Peeta."

"Peeta?" he echoed but I was already staggering towards my room. When the door swung open, there sat my little kitten, waiting for me. He was sitting on top of a duffle bag I swear I did not leave there. But I was beginning to doubt my judgment as I saw Peeta grow to the size of a lion and then shrink to the size of a mouse. Without much forethought, I placed the cat in the mesh compartment on the end of the bag and seized the shoulder strap with my good hand. I had managed to drag it out to the door before I threw up.

The pool of sick was red.

My body began shaking and slowly the left side, radiating out from where the creature had stabbed me, was beginning to compensate for the amount of pain by losing all sensation. By the time I got to the bottom of the stairs, Jace was there to catch me the moment I tripped.

"Careful," he muttered. I screamed when he put a steadying hand on my shoulder. "What? Oh my Angel, why didn't you tell me you were stung?"

I glanced over at my shoulder dripping red and black. "Is _that _what happened? I had no idea."

Jace shook his head and guided me outside. "There is something genuinely wrong with you."

"Do you think it has anything to do with being stung by an alligator-centipede hybrid?"

I saw him hold back a smile. "I mean mentally."

"Listen to the pot call the kettle black." He set me down. "Thanks. I think I'll take a nap now…"

"No," his tone was harsh. "Jaci, stay with me. Talk to me while I fix Clary."

"How'd she break?" Looking back, that probably came out more like "Owdsiebaek?"

"The demon got her."

"Oh," I pouted. "I tried not to let it…"

"Next time try harder," Jace suggested.

I looked down at my hands sadly. "I s'pose…"

"Clary?" I heard Jace ask. "Don't move."

By now police cars were surrounding the house but we were hidden in the garden. Clary ignored Jace and attempted to sit up, causing her to dry heave.

"I told you not to move," Jace hissed.

"He did," I added.

He glared at me. "That Ravener demon got you in the back of the neck. It was half-dead so it wasn't much of a sting, but we have to get you to the Institute. Hold still."

"That thing – the monster – it talked."

"I hadn't noticed," I said sarcastically, coming back to myself just a tad. I bit my tongue as my entire body convulsed with chills.

Jace cast me a worried glance and went back to helping Clary. "You've heard a demon talk before."

"The demon in Pandemonium – it looked like a person."

I could barely hear their conversation anymore, they sounded so far away.

"It was an Eidolon demon. A shape-changer. Raveners look like they look."

"Not very attractive," I mumbled, the words distorted by my shaking.

"They're too stupid to care," Jace said. "Jaci, if you fall asleep so help me."

"It said it was going to eat us," Clary whispered.

"But it didn't. You killed it." He sat back on his heels, and glanced over both of us.

"My mom," Clary whimpered, her words raspy.

"There's Ravener poison coursing through your veins right now. You'll be dead in an hour if you don't come with me." He helped her up. "Come on."

Clary nearly fell but Jace steadied her. "Can you walk?" he asked us both.

"I dunno, can I?" I had no idea why I was so sarcastic. I couldn't feel most of my body and the parts I could feel were in agony.

"I think so," Clary said. She turned and stared at the police.

"Demons," Jace summed up. "We have to get out of here. Can we go through the alley."

Clary shook her head. "It's bricked up. There's no way-" she was cut off by a coughing fit.

"Give me your hand," Jace said to me. Obediently I held one up. "Jaci, do you think you could hold off on the shaking for a moment?"

"Sorry, must be your good looks."

He grinned. "Of course." He held something to my skin that stung and drew black symbols there. I stared at it.

"Pretty," I mumbled.

After a moment of hesitation, Jace did the same to Clary's wrist.

"What's that supposed to do?"

"It'll hide you, temporarily." He slid the drawing utensil back into his belt.

"Stele," I said.

Jace shot me a sidelong look. "How'd you know that?"

I shrugged and gasped. _That _hurt. Clary looked like she was gonna be sick.

"Jace," she muttered, and then collapsed into him. Seemed like a lovely idea.

"Jaci, we have to move. Now."

I struggled to my feet. "You told Clary she'd only have an hour and that was with the thingy half dead. It got me twice, very alive. How long do I have?"

His golden eyes met mine. "Grab your bag, Jaci. We're in the biggest hurry of your life."


	6. Same Level of Insanity

**Finally a chapter that's not straight from the book! And a bit more about Jaci's past that she hasn't lived but has... if that makes any sense... Which it doesn't... Yay! Enjoy =]**

**I don't own TMI, for the record.**

* * *

I don't remember most of the trip from home to the Institute, what I do remember involved Jace forcing me to keep talking. It's difficult to remember to talk when you're contemplating the fact that you could very well be dead before you reached your destination.

"Jaci," he hissed when we'd reached the subway.

"Whatnow?" I muttered, only wanting to sleep. Each little jolt made me feel sick.

"Pick your head back up."

"I don't wanna."

"Do it anyways." His voice had developed a dangerous tone that bullied me to semi awareness.

"You're mean, you know that?"

"It happens."

I glanced around our surroundings. It seemed so strange that no one was reacting to the three teenagers slumped across the seats, one of whom was unconscious and another who was still dripping blood from a nasty wound on her shoulder.

"How bad does it look?" I asked Jace, noticing he was staring.

"Barely noticeable," he said with a grin.

The rest I can't really remember. I know I checked on Peeta, or at least imagined I checked on Peeta but who knows what really happened? Jace I suppose.

By the time we reached the Institute, I was shivering violently, vomiting blood every few minutes. Jace kicked at the door which flew open and rushed in, still carrying Clary, with me dragging along behind. In the elevator my knees gave out and I found myself sitting on the floor abruptly.

"Get back up," Jace barked.

My legs scrambled uselessly. "I can't…"

He turned to glare down at me. "Yes you can."

I began to rock my entire body until the momentum got to me up on my knees. From there I used Jace for balance with my right arm and clung to him like he was my only connection to life. Well that's probably because he was.

The elevator shuddered to a stop and Jace was out the doors and running. I saw a small shape in the corner and began to panic. Leaving my bag where it was, I tried to catch Jace, if Jace left what was I supposed to do? I would fall asleep and Jace didn't want me falling asleep.

I tripped and fell on my hands and knees, my shoulder screaming in protest. I coughed heavily and a splatter of red marked the carpeting. That was too much for me. Because Jace wasn't there to stop me, I closed my eyes and let gravity hold me.

I had dreams of strange lights without color and Peliel, holding my hand and telling me stories of when I was little. Through my dreams, demons chased me, just at my heels but never quite catching up, which was worse. And my shoulder burned constantly, like it sat in hot coals no one bothered to move.

"What's her name?" one demon hissed to another.

"Jaelyn, or Jaci," responded the other.

"I don't know how she managed to survive that."

"Has she yet? She doesn't look very alive."

"Have you checked on her sister yet?"

Why were the dream demons talking about Clary?

"Not yet." There was pressure on my hand. "Come on, Jaci. I told you not to go to sleep."

My eyelashes seemed to be glued together but I managed to pry them open. Two people were hovering above me. Forcing my eyes to open, I saw Jace and an older man who must have been Hodge.

"Welcome back," said Hodge.

"Where'd I go?" I asked, attempting to sit up. An arm appeared behind my back and helped me. "Thanks."

"Hodge wasn't sure you'd pull through," Jace said. Another member of the blunt club.

Hodge handed me a cup of something. "You've been unconscious for a day."

"That's not that bad, is it?" I asked, taking a sip.

"No, that's not bad at all," Hodge said, giving me a reassuring smile.

"Clary," I said.

"Still unconscious but that's not surprising. What is surprising is the fact that you are awake."

I shrugged and grimaced. "I'm a fast healer."

"Strange for a mundane," Hodge noted.

"She's… not a mundane…" Jace suddenly became very interested with my pillow.

"What?" Hodge and I asked together.

Jace looked up and met my eyes; he was addressing Hodge but speaking to me. "First of all she was stung by the Ravener demon twice and still managed to stay conscious long after she should have been dead. Second, she can see us and knows things she shouldn't. And third, Jaci show him your wrist."

Confused I held up my left hand.

"Other wrist."

I held up my right hand, where Jace had marked me. The Mark now was barely distinguishable, faded away.

"Jace!" Hodge said sharply.

But Jace was calm. "And if you look hard enough at her hand, you can see she already has a Mark."

Hodge inspected my hand and I did too. Faintly, you could just make out a Mark like the one Jace had on his left hand, like an eye. He had said it was a permanent Mark though…

With them both staring at me, I grew self-conscious. "Erm, is it possible I could shower? Or something?"

"Of course." Hodge turned away from me as though looking too long would hurt his eyes. "Jace, take her to a room."

"Where we left her bag?"

"Yes."

"Alright, Jaci. Time for the royal tour."

I swung my feet off the edge of the table I had been laying on. What? Then I took time to check my surroundings, apparently I had been in the library.

"Don't you have an infirmary?" I asked.

"Yes, but it was more convenient for Hodge to heal you here. You weren't responding to the basic things. Everyone thought you were going to die."

"I hate to disappoint."

"Just try harder next time," he suggested, leading me out into the hall.

"Whose clothes am I wearing, anyways?" I asked, glancing down at the plain white t-shirt (a bit too big) and baggy pajama pants.

"Mine. Isabelle threw a fit when we asked her and Alec mysteriously vanished. Now you can tell people you've officially been in my pants." He threw me a cocky grin.

"Ew. I need a shower. Now."

He was walking in front of me but then turned around to walk backwards so as to see me. "So tell me, Jaci. Who killed the demon? It was you, wasn't it?"

I rubbed my sore shoulder and shook my head. "Nope. All credit goes to Clary."

Jace snorted and spun back around. "Here's your room. If all credit goes to your sister, mind explaining how exactly you got stung? Twice?"

I gave him a mini-shrug. "Bad timing?"

"You expect me to believe that?" he asked.

"I don't know, but I'm going to shower now. Thanks." I went in my room. Of course he followed.

"I'm not leaving."

"I noticed. Peeta!" I cried. There was my little kitty, napping on the pillow of the bed. He raised his sleepy little head and looked at me, slightly annoyed.

"Seeing as you refuse to tell me the specifics about the demon, why do you go by Jaci?" he asked, flopping on the bed next to Peeta. Peeta hissed at him and turned his back on Jace.

"Because Jaci's my nickname." I was being deliberately evasive, hoping he'd leave soon so I could make use of the bathroom attached to my room.

"Why is it your nickname?" he pressed.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Is it really that important?"

Lazily, he reached over and stoked Peeta. "No, but I'm curious."

"Why do you go by Jace?" I countered.

"Because my initials are J and C. Why do you go by Jaci?"

"Sound it out," I told him, digging through my duffel bag, looking for something to wear after my shower. At the bottom of the bag I felt something boxlike but pushed it out of my mind.

"Ja-ci… Jay-Cee… your initials too?"

"Aren't you just a little genius child." I pulled out a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and an old red t-shirt. The material was worn and would feel nice on my shoulder.

"What's the C for?" Jace asked, giving up on Peeta finally when the cat slid off the bed and took residence under it.

"Catori. Happy now?"

"No." All of a sudden he was standing directly in front of me. I realized then he was only a few inches taller than I was. "How'd you kill the demon?"

I sighed. "I told you, I didn't. I was trying to get the thing off Clary, she killed it."

His brow furrowed. "How were you trying to get it off her?"

I turned away and busied myself with organizing my bag. "I grabbed its tail."

Silence.

"Are. You. Stupid?" he bellowed.

I spun around to face him. "Don't you dare call me stupid. My entire life has been about protecting my sister, and that's it. Nothing I've ever done is good enough except keep her safe so don't you _dare _insult me for doing the only thing I've ever done well! Now get out of my freaking room!"

Silently, Jace walked to the door. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," I whispered as the door closed.

Without further delay, I grabbed my clothes and showered, enjoying the hot water and the feeling of being clean. I may or may not have a slight obsession with hygiene. After my shower, I got dressed and towel dried my hair, taking a quick look in the mirror.

To be entirely honest I didn't look that beat up, minus the grey-purple bruise-like shadows under my eyes and the otherwise lack of color in my skin. The cut from Isabelle's whip was mostly healed, leaving only a shiny pink line that was nestled under my cheekbone, barely noticeable unless you looked at it dead on. I traced the line with a finger. It felt weird.

I put on some socks, scooped up Peeta, and went off to search for some type of food. In the hall I came across the boy who had been with Jace when he had killed the demon at Pandemonium.

"Hi," I said. He stared at me.

"I thought you were a mundie, but Jace says you're marked," Alec said.

How does one respond to that? "Weird, isn't it?"

"He said the rune's faded," Alec continued.

"It is." I held my hand out for inspection before he could ask for it.

He examined it for a few moments, before dropping it. "I'm Alec, by the way."

"Jaci," I said with a smile.

He nodded and continued walking. To say the meeting was strange was an understatement.

I had gone about fifty steps from my room when I felt extremely tired and was forced to sit, leaning against the wall, waiting for some strength to return. Peeta crawled off my lap and padded down the corridor a little ways. His hiss alerted me of Jace's approach.

"Generally, hallways are for walking and chairs are for sitting," he said.

"Personally I find chairs to be rather overrated. Floors are preferable," I responded.

"Clumsy people say that." But he settled down beside me anyways. "I was actually just coming to find you. Isabelle's determined to make dinner so I brought you this." Jace handed me a granola bar.

"Thanks, but if Isabelle's making diner why'd you feel the need to bring me a snack?" Of course I knew the answer but that'd be just a little on the creepy side.

"Let's just say, given your delicate state of health, this is safer for you."

I laughed softly and unwrapped the unexpected little gift. "Thanks again."

"Don't mention it." Jace reached over and broke off a chunk of the granola bar and popped it in his mouth. "About before…"

"Don't mention it," I copied him, not wanting to bring that conversation back up.

"I really doubt keeping her safe has been the only good thing you've done, especially since she's now lying unconscious in an infirmary."

"You're quite the charmer, aren't you?" My voice dripped sarcasm.

He grinned. "One of my many qualities. You didn't answer my question."

"You didn't ask a question for me to answer," I pointed out.

"It was implied."

I mentally reviewed what he said. "No… no, it wasn't."

"Fine. Why do you believe that all you can do is protect Clary?"

He attempted to hold eye contact but I stared at the wall across from me. "Because it's true. I could never paint or draw like my mom or my sister which seemed to be all that really mattered. I tried like mad, but I was horrible. I can sketch things pretty decently under pressure but that's it. So I did a ton of other things to kind of compensate for the lack of drawing ability. It's not like Jocelyn _wasn't _proud if me it was just… no matter what I did, how hard I worked, how much success I had, I would never be as good as Clary.

"When I was about five years old I drew something decently once. I don't remember exactly what it was, but it wasn't a thing. It was some sort of design. I was so proud, I ran off to show my mother. Her response? She took the paper away from me and took Clary and me to someone. I think he was a doctor or something. He did something to Clary… I think he tried to do the same to me, except it didn't work."

"What was it?" Jace asked, leaning in, the perfect listener.

"Well it's just, I always _saw _things. Pixies hiding in rosebushes, people with green skin, girls with solid colored eyes, that sort of thing and when we were really little, Clary saw them too until that day. I didn't like what the man did to my head, so I pretended that I didn't see the things anymore. I mentioned it to Clary once; she told me I was crazy."

"Well," Jace said, surprising me by taking my hand, covering mine completely, "if it makes you feel any better, you are just as sane as me."

I smiled slightly and gave his hand a tiny squeeze. "Now _that's _comforting."


	7. Love Me

**Look who passed their finals! No, probably not me. Our chem midterm I got a 67% on and that was the second highest grade in the class. I'm pree sure I flunked this time but yay for curves! Technically, finals aren't over but seeing as all I have left is band and choir I figured I didn't need to do a ton of studying or anything crazy like that. Now it's fact time.**

**Fact: My other story _Your Guardian Angel_ is a helluva lot more popular than this one.  
Fact: This story is a helluva lot better written.  
Fact: I can write this story faster/make longer chapters.  
Fact: This chapter gets super terrible at the end. Apologies. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own TMI yada yada. Whatever and ever. **

* * *

Two days passed before Isabelle found me to tell me the news that Clary was awake. Of course I rushed to the infirmary as fast as I possibly could. Even though all I'd been doing was resting, I was still weak. Weird, it's like I almost died or something. By the time I reached the infirmary, my head was spinning and I needed to rest. But Clary wasn't there.

In the shadows of the hall, I could just make out the shape of Church.

"Church, can you take me to Clary?" I asked softly.

The cat purred and stretched before padding off down the hall. I followed him as quickly as I could. He led me to what I recognized to be the music room. I could hear voices from inside and found there Jace and Clary.

"-I woke up on my own," Clary was saying.

"Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting?" I asked.

"Jaci!" Clary cried, hugging me.

"Hello," I said happily, hugging her back. "Good to see you alive."

"Jaci, I was so scared. I woke up and I didn't see you in the infirmary and no one said anything about you…"

"Who was there with you?" Jace asked, sounding curious.

"Isabelle, but she went off to get someone – Hodge, I think. She told me to wait, but-"

"I should have warned her about your habit of never doing what you're told," I commented.

"Are those Isabelle's clothes?" Jace asked. "They look ridiculous on you."

"I could point out that you burned my clothes," Clary snapped.

"It was purely precautionary. Come on, I'll take you to Hodge." He moved smoothly over to the door, holding it for me and leaving Clary to fend for herself.

"So Isabelle was willing to let Clary wear her clothes but not me?" I asked, mock upset.

Jace shrugged. "Well you were covered in considerably more blood. Besides, I didn't actually ask Izzy for you."

My head snapped around to look at him. "What?"

His face was a picture of innocence. "You were about to die so it called for drastic action. Even the sacrificing of my shirt. Which by the way, where is that?"

"Um… possibly lying on the floor of my room," I suggested.

"Why does this place have so many bedrooms?" Clary asked, reminding us she was there. "I thought it was a research institute."

"This is the residential wing. We're pledged to offer safety and lodging to any Shadowhunter who requests it. We can house up to two hundred people here," Jace recited.

"How long'd it take you to memorize that?" I asked.

They chose to ignore me.

"But most of these rooms are empty," Clary noted.

"People come and go. Nobody stays for long. Usually it's just us – Alec, Isabelle, Max, their parents – and me and Hodge."

I mentally ticked off those he had listed that I'd already met.

"Max?" Clary asked, doing her usual echo routine.

"You met the beauteous Isabelle? Alec is her elder brother. Max is the youngest, but he's overseas with his parents."

"What sort of teenager uses words like 'beauteous' and 'elder' instead of 'older'?" I asked.

Jace glared at me. "I do."

I quietly began to hum Vegas by All Time Low.

"Are they on vacation?" Clary was almost jogging to stay by Jace's side.

"Not exactly. You can think of them as – as foreign diplomats, and of this as an embassy, of sorts. Right now they're in Shadowhunter home country, working out some very delicate peace negotiations. They brought Max with them because he's so young."

Awe, Jace was so nice explaining everything to Clary, aside from the tone he used.

"The Shadowhunter home country is called Idris," I added, predicting her next question.

Jace gave me a sidelong look . "I don't remember telling you that."

I shrugged. "You didn't."

"Then how do you-?"

"Oh look! It's the library!" I cut him off with an obvious lack of subtleness. "Hello, Church."

Jace rubbed the cat's back with his foot while he narrowed his eyes at me. "We're not finished yet, Fray."

"Mmhmm…" I held the doors open for Clary and then followed her in. Jace trailed like a blonde shadow.

After three days I was still not used to the library and its masses of books. Every wall was lined up to nearly the sloped ceiling, it was impressive. The books themselves were ancient, not a paperback to be found, the kind with jewels set in the thick leather covers and locks and hinges.

Hodge sat at the polished desk in the center of the room. He smiled when he saw us.

"Another book lover, I see." He directed his smile to Clary. "You didn't tell me that, Jace."

I saw Jace shrug. "We haven't done much talking during our short acquaintance. I'm afraid our reading habits didn't come up."

For some reason, that statement upset Clary. She whirled to glare at Jace and then turned back to Hodge. "How can you tell?" she asked him. "That I like books, I mean."

"The look on your face when you walked in. Somehow I doubted you were that impressed by me."

I faked a cough to cover my snort and became suddenly very interested in the huge brass globe standing nearby. I heard Jace chuckle and then Hodge's raven, Hugo make a slight noise.

"This is Hugo," Hodge said, still addressing Clary. "Hugo is a raven, and, as such, he knows many things. I, meanwhile, am Hodge Starkweather, a professor of history, and, as such, I do not know nearly enough."

I heard my sister laugh and couldn't help but smile a tiny bit. "Clary Fray."

"Honored to make your acquaintance. I would be honored to make the acquaintance of anyone who could kill a Ravener with her bare hands."

Now my ears pricked up, they'd all avoided talking about the demon around me. I guess they thought I'd be a bit sensitive about discussing what almost/should have killed me.

"It wasn't my bare hands. It was Jace's – well, I don't remember what it was called, but-"

"She means my Sensor," Jace said, cutting her off. "She shoved it down the thing's throat. The runes must have choked it. I guess I'll need another one. I should have mentioned that."

"Funny how that works," I muttered.

Jace's eyes darted to me and then back to Hodge.

"There are several extra in the weapons room." I glanced up in time to see Hodge turn his attention back to Clary. "That was quick thinking. What gave you the idea of using the Sensor as a weapon?"

Clary opened her mouth to speak and I was very curious about what she was going to respond with when someone laughed. Not a happy laugh, a cynical forced laugh. It drew my attention to Alec, lounging in an armchair, previously unnoticed.

"I can't believe you buy that story, Hodge," he said. His glare for Clary was nothing but acidic. I frowned slightly. Alec and Isabelle had been nice enough to me, why should they treat Clary differently? She was my sister. My defensiveness was starting to kick in.

"I'm not quite sure what you mean, Alec." Hodge's tone was not light. "Are you suggesting she didn't kill that demon after all?"

"Of course she didn't. Look at her – she's a mundie, Hodge, and a little kid, at that. There's no way she took on a Ravener all by herself."

"Hey!" I said, slightly outraged.

"She wasn't by herself," Jace pointed out.

"And I'm not a little kid," Clary interrupted. "I'm sixteen years old – well, I will be on Sunday."

Alec shrugged. "So a couple of untrained fifteen year olds supposedly killed a demon?"

"I'm not fifteen," I said quietly. Alec was annoying me.

Jace turned to me. "How old are you?"

"Sixt- wait, what day is it?"

"What does the day have anything to do with how old you are?" Jace asked.

"It actually has a lot to do with it. You see, as each day passes people grow older but of course I wouldn't expect you to understand such a complicated concept." The smile I gave Jace was sarcastically sweet.

"It's Thursday," Hodge interrupted.

I stared at them blankly. Clary stared back at me but the other three just looked confused.

"Then I am seventeen as of…" I checked the time on my phone, "six hours ago."

"Jaci's the same age as you, Alec and Clary is the same age as Isabelle," Hodge said. "Would you call her a child?"

"Isabelle," Alec said testily, leaning forward in his chair, "hails from one of the greatest Shadowhunter dynasties in history. This girl, on the other hand, hails from New Jersey."

"What am I?" I asked. "Chopped liver?"

"It would explain why that cat likes you so much," Jace pointed out.

"I'm from Brooklyn!" Clary yelled. "And so what? I just killed a demon in my own house, and you're going to be a dickhead about it because I'm not some spoiled-rotten rich brat like you and your sister?"

Gasp, Clary said a bad word.

"What did you call me?" Alec's voice was a mixture of threat and offense.

Jace laughed while I smiled.

"She has a point, Alec," Jace said. "It's those bridge-and-tunnel demons you really have to watch out for-"

"It's not funny, Jace," Alec hissed, getting to his feet. "Are you just going to stand there and let her call me names?"

I stared at Alec in amazement. Here he was, a six foot something guy turning to his best friend to defend him from a five foot two girl. I didn't get it.

"Yes. It'll do you good – try to think of it as endurance training," Jace suggested.

"We may be parabatai, but your flippancy is wearing on my patience." Alec's high cheek-bones were dusted with a delicate shade of pink. Cute.

"And your obstinacy is wearing on mine. When I found them, Jaci was about to pass out and Clary was lying on the floor in a pool of blood with a dying demon in the next room. I watched as it vanished. If they didn't kill it, who did?" Jace demanded.

"Clary killed it," I said, no one paid attention to me.

"Raveners are stupid. Maybe it got itself in the neck with its stinger. It's happened before-"

"So it committed suicide?" I asked, hands on my hips, turning to Alec.

He glared at me with his dark blue eyes. "It isn't right for her to be here. Mundies aren't allowed in the Institute, and there are good reasons for that."

"She's my sister," I said for what felt like the millionth time. "If you allow me to stay here, why not her?"

"If anyone knew about this we could be reported to the Clave," Alec warned.

"That's not entirely true." We both turned to Hodge. "The Law does allow us to offer sanctuary to mundane in certain circumstances. A Ravener has already attacked their mother – they could well have been next."

Excuse me, but _didn't_ the Ravener attack us? Maybe I misunderstood that whole Imma-Kill-You vibe it had going on but I doubt the demon was chasing us down to have tea and discuss Jane Austen.

"Raveners are search-and-destroy machines. They act under orders from warlocks or powerful demon lords. Now, what interest would a warlock or demon lord have in an ordinary mundane household?" Alec glanced to Clary and then to me. "Any thoughts?"

"It must have been a mistake," Clary muttered lamely.

"But I thought-"

Alec cut me off. "Demons don't make those kind of mistakes. If they went after your mother, there must have been a reason. If she were innocent-"

"What do you mean, 'innocent'?" her voice was deathly quiet.

Alec began to stammer a response.

"What he means," Hodge interpreted, "is that it is extremely unusual for a powerful demon, the kind who might command a host of lesser demons, to interest himself in the affairs of human beings. No mundane may summon a demon – they lack that power- but there have been some, desperate and foolish, who have found a witch or warlock to do it for them."

"My mother doesn't know any warlocks."

"_Our _mother," I corrected.

"She doesn't believe in magic. But Madame Dorthea – she lives downstairs – she's a witch. Maybe the demons were after her and got our mom by mistake?"

"A witch lives downstairs from you?" Hodge questioned.

"She's a hedge-witch – a fake," Jace said dismissively. "I already looked into it. There's no reason for any warlock to be interested in her unless he's in the market for nonfunctional crystal balls."

"And we're back where we began. It seems the time has come to notify the Clave." Hodge moved to his desk.

"No! We can't-" Jace began to protest.

"It made sense to keep Clary and Jaci's presence here secret while we were not sure they would recover," Hodge said. "But now they have, and they are the first mundanes to pass through the doors of the Institute in over a hundred years. You know the rules about mundane knowledge of Shadowhunters, Jace. The Clave must be informed."

"But I thought Jace said we weren't mundane?" I asked, confused. I know I hadn't imagined that conversation.

A flash of understanding crossed Hodge's face. "Of course, how could I forget?"

"But we are mundanes," Clary argued, looking at me.

"No, you aren't," Jace corrected.

Clary began to grow angry and I saw Jace shift awkwardly.

"How?" she demanded.

"It would explain your mother. If she was a Shadowhunter in exile, she might well have Downworld enimies," Jace explained. We'd already had this conversation during the past two days where I'd felt like I was still recovering from a bad bout of the flu.

"My mother wasn't a Shadowhunter!"

"Could've been our dad," I pointed out.

"But he died. Before I was born."

I noticed Jace flinched slightly.

"It's possible," Alec said cautiously. "If their father was a Shadowhunter, and their mother a mundane – well, we all know it's against the Law to marry a mundie. Maybe they were in hiding."

"My mother would have told me," Clary said defiantly.

"Again with the 'my mother' thing. Thanks, sis." I was growing more and more annoyed. I was tired and crabby and weak. I hadn't slept well for the last two nights because I'd spent them awake by Clary's bedside. And now I was being shunned out of my own family.

Jace raised his eyebrows at me. "Not necessarily, we all have secrets."

"Luke!" The randomness award goes to Clary. "Our friend. He would know. It's been three days – he must be frantic. Can I call him? Is there a phone? Please." She turned to Alec, Hodge, and Jace in turn.

Hodge nodded and Clary rushed to the phone. I moved off so she could have her little conversation in private. I heard quiet footsteps as someone followed me.

"You two seem to get along well," Jace said from just behind me.

I didn't turn or answer, just sank down onto the floor, my back against a shelf of books. All I wanted was sleep. And some ibuprofen. My shoulder ached and I was afraid I might start shaking at any moment. That was the last thing I wanted, to look weak in front of a bunch of demon killers.

Jace didn't try to press conversation, instead he moved off to where Clary was finishing her phone call.

"I take it he wasn't happy to hear from you?" Jace asked her.

I got to my feet, moving to comfort Clary.

"I think I'd like to have a talk with Clary," Hodge said. "Alone," he added for my benefit.

Alec moved to the door. "Fine, we'll leave you to it."

"That's hardly fair," Jace argued. "I'm the one who found her. I'm the one who saved her life!"

"And I'm her sister," I added.

"I wish to speak with Clary about her mother," Hodge clarified.

"Oh. I get it, because she wasn't my mother or anything. Jocelyn liked Clary better anyways so it makes sense talking to her. Hell, I might as well not even be part of the family anymore." I couldn't take it any longer. Without bothering to see who I'd surprised with my outburst, I stormed out of the library.

I heard Jace's voice say "We'll be in the weapons room."

I wanted to run, to escape. Or maybe just to lock myself in my room, just be alone. Church mewed in surprise as I walked past him and a few feet down the hall before I sank to the floor, completely spent. At first I was terrified that I was going to cry, but then I realized I didn't have the energy even for that.

"Is she alright?" Alec's voice asked.

"I don't know. Does Isabelle enjoy curling up in the middle of hallways?" Jace's voice responded.

I could hear Alec's confusion. "No…"

"Then I would bet she's probably not alright."

Slowly, I raised my head to see them. They both stood over me, staring. Alec's delicate face showed concern while Jace smirked down at me. I groaned and buried my head in my hands. "_Go away_."

"But we just got here. Come on, Jaci. Time to see the weapons room." In a fluid motion, Jace pulled me to my feet. I glared at him. "Don't make me carry you, because I will."

"Don't you dare touch me, Jace-topher," I warned.

Both boys stared at me.

"Jace-topher?" Jace echoed.

I shrugged minutely. "The longer the name, the more threatening and I don't know your full name."

"Wayland," Alec said.

"Alright then. Don't touch me, Jace Wayland."

"I wouldn't dream of it. Weapons room is this way." He started off down the hall, expecting Alec and me to follow. We did, of course.

"Where's Isabelle?" I asked, attempting to start conversation. I hate awkward silences.

"I dunno," Alec mumbled. There seemed to be some unspoken rule that said Alec plus me equals strained conversation. It was like he didn't know what to make of me. He disliked Clary, that was obvious, but he was still on the fence when it came to me. I mused that it had something to do with the fact that I was Marked… to some unexplained extent.

Ahead of us, Jace turned around and walked backwards.

"So, Fray-"

"Don't call me that," I interrupted.

He raised one eyebrow. "Why not?"

"It's what people call Clary. I go by Jaelyn or Jaci. That's it."

"So, _Jaci-_"

"Can we call her Jaelyn?" Alec interrupted this time. "It gets confusing with Jace and Jaci."

"I'll call her what I want to. So Jaci, where'd you get that Mark on your hand from?" His tone was only mildly suspicious.

I glanced down. "I honestly don't know. I'd always thought I'd gotten scratched by a cat or something when I was a baby. I never really thought about it before…"

Jace suddenly stopped walking and I almost rammed into him.

"You've had that since you were a _baby_?" he asked incredulously.

"Erm yeah."

"Are you sure it's from a rune?" Alec asked.

I studied my hand. The Mark looked exactly like the ones Jace and Alec both had.

"It seems to be…"

"Most Shadowhunters get their first Marks when they're twelve. Are you sure you've always had it?" Jace asked.

I nodded slowly, even though the answer was partially no. Before Peliel… Wait. What was before Peliel? I attempted to follow that strand of memories, but failed.

"This is the weapons room," Jace said, entering in. Alec waited for me to go before him.

"Thanks," I murmured to him.

Alec nodded solemnly, not sure what else to do.

Over the past couple days I had glimpses of nearly everything the Institute held, including this delightful room of weapons. However, this was my first time actually going inside the room. The walls were brushed metal and lined with swords and daggers and pikes and whips and whatnot. Without really thinking about it, I wandered over to where several bows rested. Archery was something that I was interested in, but had never been allowed to try. Jocelyn hated the idea of war type things. She didn't know that I'd once been enrolled in a summer fencing program. It only lasted a week but I had been the best in my group. I'd also been about ten years old.

"What do you think Hodge is talking to the mundie about?" Alec mused.

"She's not a mundie," Jace sighed. The two had seated themselves at a table in the center of the room.

I wandered over. "What are those?"

Jace picked up one of the dull silver tubes that I'd indicated. "These are seraph blades."

"Oh." I ran one finger along the tube. "Neat. Is that what you used on the demon in Pandemonium?"

"Yes. And that would have been much easier if your sister hadn't been there."

"You say that like it's my fault." I frowned. Clary was a big girl who was responsible for herself.

"Maybe it was?" Alec suggested.

I chose not to answer that and continued looking around at the different weapons. They all gleamed as though from obsessive polishing.

"Try not to hurt yourself," Alec called to me, not looking up from the seraph blades.

"Jaci," Jace said, "since you're here, make yourself useful and find me another Sensor."

"And then I suppose you want me to make you a sandwich?" I asked crossly.

"A sandwich sounds wonderful right now."

"Bleh." Just talking about food made me feel sick to my stomach. But I did find Jace his Sensor and took it to him.

At the table, Alec and Jace were bent over three of the original four blades they had been working with. The fourth sat dejectedly off to the side, forgotten. I picked it up and examined it for the blemish that made the Shadowhunters reject it.

"What are you doing with that?" Alec asked sharply.

"Contemplating how to murder you both with it," I answered dryly. "Why isn't this one good enough?"

Jace shrugged. "No reason, just can't think of a name for it."

I twirled the weapon deftly between my fingers without realizing it. "I have an idea…"

"First, you know about demons. Then, you know we use steles, and now you know angel lore?" Jace asked. "Are you _sure _that red haired airhead is your sister?"

I scowled at him. "Shut up about Clary, would you? It's not her fault Jocelyn kept her so sheltered."

"So how did you find out?" His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

I sighed with exasperation. "I'm secretly a demon. I already told you _I don't know how I know this stuff_. I just do. And the angel lore? I used to have a Lit. Comp. class and for our final project I did a considerable amount of research."

"Lit. Comp.?" Alec asked.

"Literature and Composition."

"So you know facts. Now put the seraph blade down before you hurt yourself with it." I hated Jace's condescending tone.

"I'm not a child. I can handle a knife."

"Not this kind. Using it untrained would hurt you. Probably not too seriously knowing you, but enough that you'd be in the infirmary for awhile. Now set the knife down and go find Isabelle."

I flopped down in a chair. "I'd rather not, actually. I don't know where she is, if you want her send Church. And I'm naming this blade Peliel."

"You're kind of annoying," Alec said. Jace was studiously ignoring me.

"Love me."

The corner of Jace's mouth twitched just the tiniest bit.

* * *

**Once again, I'm terribly sorry that the chapter took a running jump off a cliff and fell faster than gravity at the end. Review it anyway? Make me happy? Give me some response for this almost 4,000 word piece of not-good-ness!**


	8. Alice and the Hatter

**This morning, I looked at City of Bones and my first thought was: "What is Stephanie Meyer's name doing on Jace's chiseled abdomen? Get off." Random tidbit.**

**Also, I don't know what you all think but to me Alex Pettyfer = Jace and if they cast someone else I might just cry. I picture Clary more as Molly Quinn verses Lily Collins but it's not like my heart was set on Molly. I think she's too tall for Clary, anyways.**

**Now on to the main event! Disclaimers! I don't own the Mortal Instruments. Wow, that was anticlimactic. **

* * *

After a little while, Clary appeared, not looking the happiest. Jace glanced up.

"Where's Hodge?" he asked.

"Writing to the Silent Brothers."

Alec shuddered.

Clary moved over to the table and reached out to touch the seraph blade sitting near Alec. He jerked it away. "What are you doing?"

"Putting the last touches on these," Jace said, picking up the other two as Clary reached for them. "Sanvi, Sansavi, and Semangelaf. They're seraph blades."

"Those don't look like knives. How did you make them? Magic?"

Alec and Jace's reaction to Clary's question made it seem as though she had cursed in church. Alec was entirely and completely horrified while Jace looked mildly annoyed.

"The funny thing about mundies, is how obsessed with magic they are for a bunch of people who don't even know what the word means," Jace said dryly.

"I know what it means!"

"No, you don't, you just think you do. Magic is a dark and elemental force, not just a lot of sparkly wands and crystal balls and talking goldfish."

"I've never seen a talking goldfish," I commented. "And if I had, I think I would associate it more with food poisoning than magic."

"I never said that was what magic is," Clary argued.

Jace rolled his eyes and turned his back on her. "Just because you call an electric eel a rubber duck doesn't make it a rubber duck, does it? And God help the poor bastard who decides they want to take a bath with the duckie."

"You're driveling," Clary pointed out.

"She's right," I agreed.

"I'm not driveling," Jace sniffed.

"Yes, you are," Alec chipped in. "Look, we don't do magic, okay? That's all you need to know about it."

Hearing the finality in his tone, I went back to entertaining myself with my commandeered angel knife. My ability to twirl the thing was impressive. I could flip it easily through my fingers and toss it up, spinning and catch it again. Left handed even. I wish Jaelyn Flynn had been able to do that.

"Hodge said I can go home," Clary announced unexpectedly.

I almost forgot to catch my seraph blade and I saw Jace lunge to grab the one he'd lost. "_He said what?_" we hissed.

"To look through my mother's things, not to stay. He said it's alright only if you both go with me."

"Jace," Alec cautioned.

"If you really want to prove that my mom or dad was a Shadowhunter, we should look through my mom's things. What's left of them."

"You really like your personal possessives, don't you?" I asked.

"Shush," Jace ordered and then grinned at me. "Down the rabbit hole. Ready to go off to Wonderland, Alice?"

With a heavy sigh I got to my feet. "As long as you're game, Hatter."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Alec asked, half out of his seat.

"No," Jace said harshly, hand on the door. "That's all right. Jaci and I can handle this on our own."

"What about me?" Clary complained.

Jace didn't answer her and took off down the hall. I saw Clary throw me a glare. Well then.

"Have you got your house keys?" Jace asked.

"No but Clary does."

"Good. Not that we couldn't break in, but we'd run a greater chance of disturbing wards that might be up if we did."

"Jaci, where's Peeta?" Clary asked.

"Around somewhere. He keeps trying to play with Church but Church hates him. Poor thing."

We had reached the gilded elevator. Jace unlatched the gate and stepped in.

"Church will warm up to him soon enough."

"Jace?" Clary asked.

"Yeah?"

"How did you know I had Shadowhunter blood? Was there some way you could tell?"

For a few moments the only sounds came from the elevator. "I guessed," he admitted finally. "It seemed the most likely explanation."

"You guessed? You must have been pretty sure, considering you could have killed me."

"Hodge explained all that then?" He raised one blond eyebrow. "I was ninety percent sure."

"I see," Clary huffed.

I had been quietly studying my shoelaces in the corner until that moment. I glanced up in time to see Clary smack Jace.

"What the hell was that for?" he demanded, an angry red mark appearing on his cheek.

Clary smirked to herself. "The other ten percent."

Clary ran off the elevator ahead of us. As soon as she was just a few feet ahead, Jace turned to me.

"How bad is it?"

I made a noncommittal noise without looking.

"Jaci…"

I turned to face him, taking his chin in my hand and holding his head so I could observe the slap mark. It really wasn't that bad, and it probably looked worse than it felt. It had been a good hit though. I could clearly make out the shape of Clary's little finger under his left eye. As I looked, he kept his eyes on mine. It took a lot for me not to make eye contact. I may or may not be the type of person who finds everyone's eyes super amazing and wants to look at them. And Jace may or may not have extremely gorgeous eyes.

After a few seconds too long I dropped my hand. "It's red," was my thoughtful analysis. Before he could possibly call me back, I had caught up with Clary, attempting to tell myself that there was no possible way I was blushing. Seeing Jace's face red from more than just the slap made me feel better.

The train ride to Brooklyn was awkward. Somehow, Jace and I had wound up crammed next to each other and when I'd attempted to slide away, he'd just slid closer to make room for Clary. I thought I was going to die.

"Can I help you with something?" he asked Clary, annoyed. Again.

"Those girls on the other side of the car are staring at you."

I looked where she had indicated. Eek. They had dyed dark hair and fake-baked skin, and wore too tight Hollister shirts with low rise jeans and the strangest shoes I'd ever seen in my life.

"Of course they are," Jace said. "I am stunningly attractive."

I gagged and won myself a haughty glare from Jace.

"Haven't you heard modesty is an attractive trait?" Clary asked.

"Only from ugly people."

"So you're calling Clary ugly?" I asked.

He looked as though he were about to speak, but thought better of it. Open mouth, insert foot. Instead, he winked at the girls who giggled and looked away.

"Man-whore," I muttered.

He stared at me, confused.

Clary sighed. "How come they can see you?"

"Glamours are a pain to use. Sometimes we don't bother."

"And you never know when you might find some hot girls on the train," I added.

"That's true."

He seemed to be in a good mood once we left the station and were heading towards the apartment. In fact, he was humming.

"Do you have to do that?" Clary asked. "It's annoying."

I actually didn't mind his humming, but it sounded oddly familiar.

"I didn't know you were a fan of The Ready Set," I commented.

Jace smiled at me and continued humming Love Like Woe. When he got to the chorus, I hummed the background "whoa"s. For some reason, Clary glared at _me._

"I was going to apologize for smacking you," she said, "but I've changed my mind."

"Tell me darling, can I get a break somehow?" Jace asked.

"How can I say no?" I continued.

We laughed and Clary kicked at cracks in the sidewalk.

"Hey, just be glad you hit me and not Alec. He would have hit you back."

"He seems to be itching for the chance," she mumbled, turning her kicking on an innocent pop can that happened to cross her path. "What was it that Alec called you? Para-something?"

"Parabatai," I corrected.

"It means a pair of warriors who fight together – who are closer than brothers. Alec is more than just my best friend." I raised my eyebrows at the statement and Jace scowled at me before he kept talking. "My father and his father were parabatai when they were young. His father was my godfather – that's why I live with them. They're my adopted family."

"But your last name isn't Lightwood," Clary pointed out.

"No. Here we are."

The building looked the same from the outside and I wondered offhandedly if any of mine or Clary's blood was still around, dried on the grass. Clary looked nervous and I rested my hand momentarily on her shoulder.

"It looks the same," Clary said to me.

"On the outside." Jace pulled his Sensor out of his pocket.

"So that's a Sensor? What does it do?" One question at a time, Clary.

"It picks up frequencies, like a radio does, but these frequencies are demonic in origin."

"Demon shortwave?" she joked.

"Something like that." As a group we moved up to the front door slowly, Jace in the middle with his Sensor. It clicked a bit and then stopped. "It's picking up trace activity, but that could just be left over from that night. I'm not getting anything strong enough for there to be demons present now."

"Good."

Clary retrieved her keys and unlocked the door, preparing to walk in. Jace held her back and went first. Inside it was dark. The light was still out and there was no way a few stray sunbeams could wander in through the grimy skylight. Madame Dorothea's apartment was dark as well.

Jace led the way to the stairs. When he rested his hand on the banister, it came away red.

"Blood."

"Maybe it's one of ours," Clary suggested with a small voice. "From the other night."

I shook my head. "It'd be dry by now. Someone's been here since then."

"Come on." Jace climbed the stairs cautiously, only allowing us to pass him once we reached the landing and needed to unlock the door. Clary fumbled with the keys before giving up and handing them to me. I could feel Jace hovering over me.

"Relax, would you?" I asked, turning the key.

He grabbed my wrist when I went to open the door. "I'll go in first."

Thinking back to the fresh blood on the banister I nodded and moved aside. Clary's eyes were orb like and her expression was terrified. I took her hand like I used to when we were little and together we stepped inside.

The first thing I noticed was the cold. It should have been warm, with no one around for the past few days to turn on the AC. The fact that it wasn't disturbed me. Pulling Clary with me, I followed Jace into the living room. It was stripped bare. Nothing, no lights or rugs or anything even, was left. Even the curtains were gone. Clary pulled me towards the kitchen. Jace followed behind us, on guard.

The kitchen was exactly like the living room.

"What would demons want with your microwave?" Clary whispered.

Jace frowned. "I don't know, but I'm not sensing any demonic presence right now. I'd say they're long gone. Are you satisfied? There's nothing here."

"I want to see our room."

"Clary…" I warned, growing extremely uneasy.

Jace put a calming hand on my shoulder so briefly I wasn't even sure he really did it. "If that's what it takes." He put the seraph blade he had been holding in his pocket.

"Don't," I said. "Just in case."

His golden eyes met my hazels.

"I just, don't like this. We shouldn't be here, there's something wrong about all of this…"

"We'll leave as soon as Clary's finished. Do you have your seraph blade?" he asked. By now Clary was almost to our room.

"What? Oh, yeah." I pulled it out of my pocket where I'd stashed it.

"Feel better?"

Oddly enough, I did. And I nodded.

Jace shook his head and moved ahead of me. "That makes one of us."

Clary jumped slightly when she touched the door knob, but attempted to turn it anyways.

"It won't-" Just then the door flew open, knocking us all backwards.

My head hit the wall with a dull thud, causing my vision to cloud over for a moment. When I could see again, I saw Clary, nearest the door, gathering herself, and Jace being honed in on by something that looked a lot like a troll. A Forsaken.

"Sansavi!" he cried. The blade shot from the tube, clear and terribly sharp. Jace slashed at the Forsaken and then turned and sprinted towards Clary. "Jaci, run!"

Without hesitation, I raced after him. The Forsaken was chasing me, each step its own miniature earthquake. The moment I was through the door, Jace slammed it shut and an instant later it shook violently. Jace pushed Clary and me towards the steps.

"Get downstairs!" He seemed to be enjoying himself too much. "Get out of the-"

The door flew open and Jace nimbly dodged. "Easy does it!" he yelled as the creature lunged past the two of us and headed for him. It was hefting a huge axe that it brought down on Jace –

Who was no longer standing there. The heavy weapon sunk into the banister and stuck. Jace laughed and the Forsaken went after him with its fists. I saw the bright arc of Sansavi as Jace attacked with it. And then I remembered the scene in the book. That wasn't the killing blow, the thing was going to grab Jace, fall with him down the stairs, and break his arm in the process. Without thinking, I cried out, "Peliel!"

The seraph blade in my hand burst to life and I lodged it deeply into the monster's back. It made a horrible choking noise before keeling over sideways and falling down the stairs. I watched it for a few seconds to see if I had really killed it.

"How…?" Jace trailed off, searching my face as though he might find the secret there.

"There's something on your face," I said. "It looks like blood."

He reached up and brushed his cheek, smearing to worse. "Not mine."

I nodded. "We should make sure it's dead. Are you alright, Clary?"

Her face was pale and she seemed to be shaking but she nodded readily enough. "Y – yeah."

Jace led the way down the stairs, drawing another seraph blade, just in case. "Sanvi." The blade appeared, as bright as its two predecessors.

"I don't think you're going to need that," I said. "If judging by the angle of its neck means anything."

Jace crept closer and looked the monster over. "You stabbed it in the heart. It was dead already."

"But… I thought it would disappear. Back to its own dimension – you said." Clary stared at the dead creature with wide eyes.

"I said that's what happens to demons when they die. That wasn't a demon."

I put a sudden stop to the rest of the conversation by sitting down unexpectedly. "Ouch."

The pain came to me distantly, a dull insistent pounding. I reached up and touched where I had hit the wall and felt something hot and sticky there.

"What's wrong?" Clary fell to her knees beside me, looking frantic. I became aware of the fact that the neck of my shirt was wet and that something was trickling down my neck.

Jace dropped down on my injured side. "Shit, Jaci."

"That's a bad word," I mumbled half-heartedly. "How bad is it?"

His face was grim as he answered. "I'm checking." He held my head with one hand and with the other gently felt the base of my skull. I bit my lip in pain. Clary grasped my hand and squeezed it and I gave her a small smile. Jace lifted my hair to see better.

"It's worse than it looks," he declared, pulling out his stele. "Clary hold her hair."

My sister moved around me to do as she was told.

"This," Jace said, "is a stele."

I couldn't see what was happening but I did feel a strange almost stinging sensation as Jace marked me. "And this," he continued his commentary, "is what happens when Shadowhunters are wounded."

As soon as the sting vanished, so did the pain. I gingerly touched the spot. It was still slick with blood, but otherwise uninjured. "Thanks."

Clary sucked in a breath. "That's amazing. How did you-?"

"That was an _iratze_ – a healing rune," Jace explained, replacing the stele in his belt. He rocked back on his heels and observed me. "You're injury prone."

"It's a recent increasing trend," I said as I got to my feet. I glanced down at the blood stain on my shirt. "Dang, I like this shirt."

"You can wash it," Clary pointed out.

"Good point."

Jace nudged the dead monster with his foot. "We're going to have to report this to Hodge." And after a brief pause; "He'll freak out." The corner of his mouth twitched up.

"Why will he freak?" Clary asked. "I get that that thing isn't a demon – that's why the Sensor didn't register it, right?"

He nodded. "You see the scars all over its face?"

"Kind of hard to miss," I said.

"Those were made with a stele like this one," he tapped his stele. "You asked me what happens when you carve Marks onto someone who doesn't have Shadowhunter blood. Just one Mark will only burn you, but a lot of Marks, powerful ones? Carved into the flesh of a totally ordinary human being with no trace of Shadowhunter ancestry? You get this." He indicated the corpse. "The runes are agonizingly painful. The Marked ones go insane – the pain drives them out of their minds. They become fierce, mindless killers. They don't sleep or eat unless you make them, and the die, usually quickly. Runes have great power and can be used to do great good – but they can be used for evil. The Forsaken are evil."

I shuddered.

"But why would anyone do that to themselves?" Clary asked.

"No one would," I answered. "This has to be something that happens to them, right?"

Jace nodded. "By a warlock, maybe, some Downworlder gone bad. The Forsaken are loyal to the one who marked them, and they're fierce killers. They can obey simple commands, too. It's like having a – a slave army." He seemed to have grown bored with the lesson and glanced at me. "I'm going back upstairs."

"But there's nothing there," Clary argued.

"There might be more of them." He couldn't keep the wishful tone out of his voice. "You should wait here."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Enter Madame Dorothea stage right. "There are more of them where the first one came from."

Jace spun, raising his seraph blade but Clary held out a cautionary hand.

"Madame Dorothea?"

The witched nodded from the door of her apartment.

"But…" Jace trailed off.

"More _what_?" Clary and I asked.

"More Forsaken," Dorothea said with a smile. My face distorted in confusion. Dorothea observed the corpse in the middle of the entryway. "You have made a mess, haven't you? I'm sure you weren't planning on cleaning up either. Typical."

"But you're a _mundane_," Captain Jace Obvious finished.

"So observant." Dorothea's sarcastic voice sounded just like her normal voice. "The Clave really broke the mold with you."

Jace looked dangerously angry. "You know about the Clave? You knew about them, and you knew there were Forsaken in this house, and you didn't notify them? Just the existence of Forsaken is a crime against the Covenant-"

Madame Dorothea waved her hand dismissively. "Neither Clave nor Covenant have ever done anything for me. I own them nothing."

"Jace stop it," Clary said.

"Maybe I'm wrong, but I thought it was a two way argument," I mused. I felt Madame Dorothea's gaze on me and she was not amused.

"You seem to have blood on your shirt, little Shadowhunter," Dorothea said sharply.

"Is _that _why it's clinging to me? I hadn't noticed." I was feeling flippant.

"Jaci," Clary warned. "Madame Dorothea, if you know about the Clave and the Forsaken, then maybe you know what happened to our mother?"

Dorothea shook her head sadly. "My advice to you is to forget about your mother. She's gone."

Clary looked like she was going to be sick. "You mean she's dead?"

"No. I'm sure she's still alive," the witch said evenly. "For now."

"Then I have to find her," Clary began frantically. "You understand? I have to find her before-"

"I don't want to involve myself in Shadowhunter business."

"But you knew our mom," I argued. "She was your neighbor-"

"This is an official Clave investigation," Jace said, taking control of the conversation. "I can always come back with the Silent Brothers."

"Oh, for the-" She glanced over the three of us. "I suppose you might as well come in, I'll tell you what I can. And mind you, don't get blood on everything," she warned me. "And if you tell anyone I helped you, Shadowhunter, you'll wake up tomorrow with snakes for hair and an extra pair of arms."

"Cute," I murmured to Clary, she smiled.

"That might be nice, an extra pair of arms," Jace said. "Handy in a fight."

"Not if they're growing out of your neck."

"Double cute," Clary murmured back.

"Yikes," Jace said.

"Yikes is right, Jace Wayland." She turned and strolled deeper into her house with us trailing behind.

"Wayland?" Clary asked Jace.

"It's my name. I can't say I like that she knows it."

"Still, I think we might as well try talking to her. What have we got to lose?" Clary asked us.

"Once you've spent a bit more time in our world," Jace said, glancing over at me, "you won't ask me that again."

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**I don't really have anything to say here... So review! Please? (Finals are over, next quarter classes are easy, this means there will be ink!)**


	9. Jace Spit

**Mehhhh... aopsidjkfladfga I am sick of typing. Today has been full of writing. Unfortunately, not the fun uber awesome story type but the asdl;fjkasdf; your-ridiculousness-makes-me-angry type. I corrected someones spelling and it all went *BOOM*. (insert dramatic sound effects here) I'm done complaining now, fer realz.**

**I does not own teh Mortal Instrumumuments. Mmmkay? Yay fer psoaidfjknaldf moods. (psoaidfjknaldf is an adjective, as of riiight nao)**

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The apartment was… interesting… in a mildly creepy way. The walls were lined with posters showing constellations and bearing detailed descriptions of the lines of the hand. Rows of books were kept near the door.

"Interested in chiromancy?" Dorothea asked Clary. "Or just nosy?"

"Neither," Clary answered saucily. "Can you really tell fortunes?"

"My mother had a great talent. She could see a man's future in his hand or the leaves at the bottom of his teacup. She taught me some of her tricks." Her bright eyes turned to Jace. "Speaking of tea, young man, would you like some?"

Jace looked taken aback. "What?"

"Tea. I find it both settles the stomach and concentrates the mind. Wonderful drink, tea."

"I'll have tea," Clary chipped in.

I made a face. "I won't."

"All right. As long as it isn't Ear Grey," Jace said, wrinkling his nose. "I hate bergamot."

Dorothea laughed loudly and disappeared behind a beaded curtain.

"You hate bergamot?" Clary asked.

"You know what bergamot is?" I asked.

"You have a problem with that?"

"You may be the only guy our age who knows what bergamot is," I commented.

"Much less knows that it's in Earl Grey tea," Clary added.

"Yes well, I'm not like other guys," Jace sniffed. "Besides, at the Institute we have to take classes in basic medicinal uses for plants. It's required."

"Odd, seems a bit dainty for demon hunters to be learning horticulture." I smirked.

"Very funny, Fray."

"Don't call her that," Clary said sharply.

Jace glanced to Clary, surprised. "Why not? It's your last name, isn't it?"

Clary turned to examine a poster instead of answering him. Jace turned his questioning gaze on me. Under pretext of getting a closer look at the poster behind Jace's shoulder, I whispered in his ear, "Simon calls her that."

He turned to look at me, our faces inches apart. "Simon?"

Just then the beaded curtain rattled and we jumped apart.

"Tea's on the table," Dorothea said. "There's no need for you three to keep standing there donkeys. Come into the parlor."

"There's a parlor?" Clary asked.

"Of course there's a parlor. Where else would I entertain?" Dorothea said shortly.

"I'll just leave my hat with the footman," Jace said out of the corner of his mouth.

I laughed.

"If you were half as funny as she thinks you are, my boy, you'd be twice as funny as you are." She vanished back behind the same curtain as before.

Jace frowned. "I'm not quite sure what she meant by that."

"Really, it made perfect sense to me," Clary said, marching angrily into the next room. I followed her, cheeks flaming. Without a word I went and sat in the furthest away armchair, leaving two closer ones for Jace and Clary. There was a little coffee table in front of those chairs set with a gleaming tea service and a plate stacked with sandwiches.

"Wow," Clary said. "This looks great."

Dorothea smiled. "Have some tea. Milk? Sugar?"

"I'll pass," I said.

Clary looked at Jace who was closely examining the sandwiches.

"Sugar," Clary said.

"Cucumber," Jace declared after taking a bite of a sandwich. I made a face.

"I always think cucumber sandwiches are just the thing for tea, don't you?" Madame Dorothea mused.

"Cucumbers belong in salads."

"I hate cucumber," Jace complained, giving the bitten sandwich to Clary. Clary took it daintily with two fingers and set it down on a napkin, covering it up.

"Cucumber and bergamot," Clary counted off. "Is there anything else you hate that I ought to know about?"

"No," was his reply. "However, I don't like liars, for the record." He shot a meaningful glance at Dorothea but for some unexplained reason I felt guilty.

"You can call me a liar all you like. It's true, I'm not a witch. But my mother was," Dorothea said, sipping her tea. Clary passed me a sandwich but I shook my head.

"That's impossible," Jace pointed out, oddly calm. I guess tea makes him a right little gentleman.

"Why impossible?" Clary inquired.

Jace sighed heavily. "Because they're half-human, half-demon. All witches and warlocks are crossbreeds. And because they're crossbreeds, they can't have children. They're sterile."

"Is that what sterile means?" I asked sarcastically.

"Quiet, Jaelyn," Jace said.

I froze for a moment; that was the first time he'd ever addressed me with my christened name. When I looked over at him I met his gaze evenly.

"So like mules," Clary said. "Mules are sterile crossbreeds."

After half a second Jace turned to look at her. "Your knowledge of livestock is astounding. All Downworlders are in some part demon, but only warlocks are the children of demon parents. It's why their powers are the strongest."

"Vampires and werewolves," Clary began, "they're part demon too? And faeries?"

"Vampires and werewolves are the result of diseases brought by demons from their home dimensions. Most demon diseases are deadly to humans, but in these cases they worked strange changes on the infected, without actually killing them. And faeries-"

"Faeries are fallen angels," interrupted Dorothea. "Cast down out of heaven for their pride."

"I highly doubt that," I said.

"That's the legend," Jace admitted. "It's also said that they're the offspring of demons and angels, which always seemed more likely to me. Good and evil, mixing together. Faeries are as beautiful as angels are supposed to be, but they have a lot of mischief and cruelty in them. And you'll notice most of them avoid midday sunlight-"

"For the devil has no power," Dorothea recited, "except in the dark."

"That sounds like it's from Hamlet or something."

Dorothea's eyes flashed to me. "Something like that. Now enough about angels. It's true that warlocks can't have children. My mother adopted me because she wanted to make sure there'd be someone to attend this place after she was gone. I don't have to master magic myself. I have only to watch and guard."

"Guard what?" we all three asked.

"What indeed?" Dorothea leaned forward to grab a sandwich, but Clary had already devoured them all, aside from the one with Jace-spit on it. "It's good to see a young woman eat her fill. In my day, girls were robust, strapping creatures, not twigs like they are nowadays."

"Thanks," Clary mumbled.

"Don't you know obesity's on the rise?" I asked. But Dorothea ignored me as she snapped up Clary's empty teacup and began reading the leaves.

"What? Did I crack the cup or something?" Clary asked nervously.

"She's reading your tea leaves," Jace responded in a bored tone. He lounged in his chair, examining his nails.

"Is it bad?" Clary asked Dorothea.

"It is neither bad nor good. It is confusing. Give me your cup," she ordered Jace.

He looked up from his nails. "But I'm not done with my-"

She didn't allow him to finish. Instead, she snatched his cup and dumped the excess tea back in the pot. Was there going to be any food left in this house _not _baring a trace of his saliva? With a look of concentration, Madame Dorothea read his tea leaves. "I see violence in your future, a great deal of blood shed by you and others. Someone's keeping things from you and you'll fall in love with the wrong person. Also, you have an enemy."

"Only one? That's good news."

Dorothea poured me a small glass of tea. "Drink this," she ordered, pushing it towards me.

"But-"

"Drink it," her tone was threatening. I kept my complaint about Jace's spit to myself and chocked down the two bitter mouthfuls of the spitty tea. Wordlessly, I handed my cup to Dorothea.

Her eyebrows shot up as she read the leaves.

"What?" I asked.

"You have a complicated past," she said.

I grew nervous and tried my best to shrink into my chair. "Yeah…" Jace and Clary were both staring at me.

"Perhaps more complicated than even you know," Dorothea said, setting my cup down and reaching for Clary's again. "There is nothing for me to read here. The images are jumbled, meaningless." She glanced at Clary. "Is there a block in your mind?"

Clary blinked. "A what?"

"Like a spell that might conceal a memory, or might have blocked out your Sight."

"No, of course not," Clary said.

The image of an old apartment flashed through my mind.

"Don't be so hasty," Jace advised Clary, looking more alert. "It's true that she claims not to remember ever having had the Sight before this week. Maybe-"

"Maybe I'm just a late developer," Clary snapped.

I cringed and Jace smirked unpleasantly.

Clary's face turned the same shade as her hair. "Don't leer at me just because I said that."

My face went immediately blank. "I wasn't going to."

"He was working up to a leer," she gestured towards Jace. "I could tell."

Jace shrugged. "Maybe, but that doesn't mean I'm not right. Something's blocking your memories, I'm almost sure of it."

"Just like you were almost sure the apartment was empty?" I asked.

"I never said that."

"You implied it."

"Very well," Dorothea cut across us and picked up a deck of tarot cards and held them out towards Clary, "let's try something else. Slide your hand over these until you touch one that feels hot or cold, or seems to cling to your fingers. Then draw that one and show it to me."

Jace and I watched closely as Clary seemed to pick a card at random and held it up.

"The Ace of Cups," Madame Dorothea announced. "The love card."

Clary examined the card and I leaned over her shoulder. The style of painting was very familiar.

"Jocelyn painted this," I stated.

Dorothea nodded and took the card from Clary. "She painted the whole pack. A gift for me."

"So you say," Jace said coldly, rising to his feet, signaling this visit was nearing its end. "How well did you know their mother?"

Dorothea leaned back, at ease. "Jocelyn knew what I was, and I knew what she was. We didn't talk about it much. Sometimes she did favors for me – like painting this pack of cards – and in return I'd tell her the occasional piece of Downworld gossip. There was a name she asked me to keep an ear out for, and I did."

Jace and I spoke at the same time. "What name?"

"Valentine."

Clary began to speak but Jace spoke over her.

"And when you say you knew what Jocelyn was, what do you mean? What was she?"

"Jocelyn was what she was," Dorothea said.

"Because _that _makes sense."

"You'd be wise to hold your tongue, girl," Dorothea said to me sharply. "In her past she'd been like you. A Shadowhunter. One of the Clave."

"No," Clary whispered.

Dorothea turned sad eyes on Clary. "It's true. She chose to live in this house precisely because-"

"Because this is a Sanctuary, isn't it?" Jace demanded. "Your mother was a Control. She made this space, hidden, protected – it's a perfect spot for Downworlders on the run to hide out. That's what you do, isn't it? You hide criminals here."

At first I thought Jace had gone too far, but Dorothea responded calmly. "You _would _call them that. You're familiar with the motto of the Covenant?"

"Sed lex dura lex," he recited from memory. "The Law is hard, but it is the Law."

"Sometimes the Law is too hard. I know the Clave would have taken me away from my mother if they could. You want me to let them do the same to others?"

"So you're a philanthropist." Jace sneered. "I suppose you expect me to believe that Downworlders don't pay you handsomely for the privilege of your Sanctuary?"

The witch grinned unpleasantly. "We can't all get by on our looks like you."

"I should tell the Clave about you-"

"You can't!" Clary cried, jumping to her feet. "You promised."

"I never promised anything." Quickly, Jace crossed over to the wall and ripped aside a velvet curtain. "You want to tell me what this is?"

"It's a door, Jace." Clary sounded exasperated.

I looked at the door, it didn't logically belong in that wall, unless it opened up to more wall. There was no back door to this building. And it was too shiny.

"Shut up," Jace snapped. "It's a Portal, isn't it?"

"It's a five-dimensional door," Dorothea corrected.

"Oh, same difference," I said.

"An escape hatch. That's why your mother wanted to live here. So she could always flee at a moment's notice," Jace said.

"Then why didn't she-," Clary stopped and stared blankly at me. "Because of us. She wouldn't leave without us that night, so she stayed."

Seeing the tears gathering in Clary's eyes, I rose to my feet but she brushed past me and to the Portal. "I want to see where she would have gone. I want to see where she was going to escape to-"

"Clary!" I cried.

"No!" Jace reached to grab her but she'd already opened the door and was pulled through it. Jace sighed heavily. "Does she ever," he asked, "stop to think?"

I grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to the Portal. "Off to the real Wonderland."

He frowned. "We'd better not end up in the river." And with that he pulled me through the Portal with him.


	10. Different Kinds of Wrong

**So I lied about my schedule. It's actually terrible but I'll try to write as much as I can. And for you people wondering if this is going to be exactly like the book: major events will be the same, minor one's will change.**

* * *

I landed on Clary. Jace landed on me. I heard Clary gasp in pain as my knee hit something soft on her, probably her stomach. Trying to push myself out of the pile, my elbow hit something hard. Jace grunted. Did I hit him in the stomach too? And there was something in my other hand. Then I realized it was Jace's hand. Oops.

"Getoffme," I mumbled, words all smushed.

I could _feel _Jace chuckle before he rolled off. I sat up, clawing both my own and Clary's hair out of my mouth.

"You got spit in my hair!" Clary cried.

"Maybe you got hair in my spit." I stood up gingerly before pulling my hair back in a low messy bun. My mass of bangs still hung over my face but at least it was all off my neck.

"That was fun," Jace said with a little smirk.

I glared at him. "You _would _say that." I fixed my rumpled shirt and took the time to look around. Seeing Clary still sitting on the ground, I held out a hand to pull her up.

"Thanks," she said.

"No problem. Just try not to go jumping through Portals next time, okay?" I suggested.

Jace looked bored. "As sweet as this is, where are we?"

"This is Luke's house," Clary said.

She was right. Luke's little bookshop looked slightly abandoned, but it was still Luke's bookshop.

"He lives in a bookstore?" Jace asked.

"He lives behind the store," Clary corrected.

"Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, are you Jace?" I said.

"Jace, how did we get here?" Clary asked, sparing him from my question.

"Through the Portal. It takes you to whatever place you're thinking of," he explained.

"But I wasn't thinking of here," she argued. "I wasn't thinking of anywhere."

"Not surprising," he said harshly. I shot him a look which he missed. "But since we're here… Do you have the keys to the house?"

"Nope."

"Sometimes he leaves the back door unlocked," Clary suggested.

"It's a terrible habit," I pointed out.

"And you're sure he isn't home?"

Clary looked around as though searching for a big sign that bore the words "Luke is home". Oddly enough, she didn't find one. "Well, his truck's gone, the store's closed, and all the lights are off. I'd say probably not."

Jace mock bowed and stepped aside. "Then lead the way."

I hated the fact that we always seemed to move in a line. Who would honestly think that three teenagers creeping around single file like kindergartners was a normal sight? Not to mention that we were breaking and entering. We may be five year olds, but we're some pretty badass five year olds.

Jace rattled the chain link fence, grinning broadly when it swayed dangerously. "Up and over," he said and began to climb. I sighed and followed his lead. Once he reached to top, Jace waited for a second before launching himself over the other side of the fence, landing gracelessly in the bushes. An ethereal screech pierced the air. I glanced down at Clary in surprise, thinking maybe she had screamed but she was staring intently through to the other side of the fence where Jace was, chasing some… _thing._

Cautiously, I leaped down of the fence, landing smoothly in a crouch to prevent jamming my ankles.

"Wait over there," I said to Clary and made my way over to the other side of the garden where Jace was wrestling with some unknown person whose cries of protest sounded extremely familiar.

"Hold still and maybe I won't kill you," Jace threatened.

"Jace!" I scolded, jogging now.

Behind me I heard the fence rattle and then a thump as Clary leaped over. I spun to face her, annoyed. "I thought I told you to wait!"

Her face was red and her jeans were ripped from the middle of her thigh to her knee. "I'm not a child," she spat.

"Got him!" Jace cried triumphantly, bringing back our attention. The blonde Shadowhunter was perched happily on the back of a teenage boy, one hand holding the boy's arms and the other holding his face down to the dirt.

"Get the hell off me, you pretentious asshole," Simon snarled, spitting dirt out of his mouth.

"_Simon!"_ Clary cried, frozen.

"Oh, God." Jace rolled off of his prey, a look of utter disappointment on his face. "And here I'd actually hoped I'd got hold of something interesting."

"Simon _is _interesting," Clary snapped, rushing into action now. She moved quickly to her best friend's side and began brushing dirt and grass off him, fixing his glasses.

Simon's angry glance darted between Jace and Clary but neither seemed to notice.

"Now, mundane," Jace said in an authoritative tone. "Explain."

* * *

"But what were you doing hiding in Luke's bushes?" Clary asked as she continued to groom Simon, ignoring his glares. "That's the part I don't get."

We had taken refuge on Luke's back porch, Simon and Clary cozied up on the steps, Jace leaning heavily against the railing and fidgeting with his stele, and mean, balanced carefully on the railing, closer to Jace than the other two.

"I mean," Clary continued, "did Luke know you were there?"

"Yes, Clary," I said sarcastically. "Simon asked for permission to creep in Luke's bushes."

"Shut up, Jaci," she snapped.

"Of course he didn't know I was there," Simon said sullenly, wrapping his arms around his knees and staring straight ahead like a sulking child.

Almost against her will, Clary reached out and brushed his cheek lightly. "The main thing is that you're all right."

"That _I'm _all right? Clary, do you have any idea what I've been through this past couple of days? The last time I saw you, you were chasing Jaci out of Java Jones and then you just… disappeared. You wouldn't answer your phone, and someone," he paused to shoot me a glare, "doesn't give out her phone number to call in the first place. And then your home phone was disconnected – then Luke told me you were off staying with some relatives upstate when I _know _you don't have any other relatives. I thought I'd done something to piss you off."

"You don't give out your phone number to anyone?" Jace asked me.

I turned to him, mildly surprised. "No. Why?"

He chuckled. "No reason."

With a shrug, I turned back to Simon and Clary.

"You're my best friend," Clary was saying. "I wasn't mad at you."

"Yeah, well, you clearly also couldn't be bothered to call me and tell me you were shacking up with some dyed-blonde wanna-be goth you probably met at Pandemonium," Simon shot back. "After I spent the past three days wondering if you were _dead._"

Clary turned a terrible shade of red. "I was not shacking up."

"And my hair is naturally blond," Jace added. "Just for the record."

"And she almost was dead," I pointed out. "She was _this_ close." I held my hand up, thumb and index finger less than a centimeter apart.

"You were _thiis_ close," Jace said, fingers almost touching.

I shuddered. "Thanks for the reminder."

"You were almost dead?" Simon asked Clary, a look of horror crossing his face.

Clary glanced over at Jace and me. "I'm going to tell him the truth."

Jace looked bored. "I know."

"Are you going to try to stop me?" she challenged.

Jace seemed to consider that, glancing at me. "Our oath to the Covenant binds us. No such oath binds you."

"Us?" I asked softly.

Clary nodded and turned away from us to explain everything to Simon. Not wanting to have to hear the story again, I moved off across Luke's backyard. Jace followed me. When we'd moved far enough away I spoke.

"What made you say I have an oath to the Covenant?" I asked, looking up at the sky. Maybe if I looked hard enough, I'd find my answers there.

"Because you have a Mark." He said it as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"A faded Mark."

"But still, a Mark. Jaci… when you were younger did you have nightmares?"

His concerned tone made me look at him. In the fading light his eyes looked more luminescent than usual and his hair gleamed like a strange halo.

I reviewed my past as Clary's sister. "I don't know if I necessarily had _nightmares_. When I was little, I didn't remember my dreams well. I do remember being scared a lot… if that means anything. Why do you ask?"

Gently, Jace took my hand and examined the faded rune, running his thumb over it lightly. "If Nephilim children are marked too young, they have nightmares. Too young meaning six year old kids or so. But a baby? That's either incredibly stupid or horribly genius."

"How?" I made no move to remove my hand from his grasp.

Not looking at me, he explained. "Either the Mark should either have been too powerful and killed or seriously damaged the baby or somehow the rune was weakened and the kid would have an advantage for training and the nightmares would occur before they could be remembered."

"So what you're saying is by all intensive purposes, I shouldn't be alive," I said.

He let my hand drop and turned his attention to a nearby plant, snapping off a leaf and twirling it between his fingers. "That would depend on what you talk 'shouldn't' to mean."

"You're trying to tell me there's more than one meaning for 'shouldn't'?" I asked, arms crossed, eyebrow raised.

"Of course." Those golden eyes finally met mine. "There's 'shouldn't be alive' as in better off dead and there's 'shouldn't be alive' as in alive against all odds. I meant the second meaning."

Even though he sounded crazy, I understood what he meant. The meanings were the same yet subtly different. A subtle difference that I had spent my life searching for. The way people stressed their words could change the entire meaning of what they said and the way they intended their comment could change things too, I now saw.

"Like earlier today, at Madame Dorothea's," he continued. I was the one who broke eye contact. "When she said I would fall in love with the wrong person."

I didn't ask him what he meant by that and he offered nothing more on the subject.

* * *

The sun had set by the time Clary had finished explaining to Simon. And he had questions. I was tired and irritable, again. The dried blood on my shirt collar rubbed uncomfortably against my neck not to mention the crusty feeling of the fabric made me slightly nauseous.

"First question: what do you call people like him again?" Simon asked, pointing to Jace who had reclaimed his spot against the railing.

"He's a Shadowhunter," Clary answered.

"A demon hunter," Jace elucidated. "I kill demons. It's not that complicated, really."

"For real?"

Jace sighed with boredom and drew out his final seraph blade to fidget with. "For real."

Simon's brow furrowed. "And there are vampires too? Werewolves, warlocks, all that stuff?"

Clary looked nervous even though it was obvious she had just told Simon all of his fantasies were true. "So I hear."

"And you kill them too?" Simon asked Jace, addressing him directly for what I was pretty sure was the first time.

Jace grinned like the Cheshire cat. "Only when they've been naughty."

I stared at him, half expecting him to vanish. Not that I'd be necessarily surprised if such a thing happened…

"That is _so awesome_," Simon said.

I held back a laugh.

"Awesome?" Clary asked, startled.

"Totally. It's like Dungeons and Dragons, but real."

At Simon's words, Jace cocked his head to one side like a curious puppy. "It's like what?"

"A fantasy game. I've never played but I've heard it's quite entertaining," I answered.

Clary looked mortified when Jace scoffed. Why?

Simon, however, was beaming like he knew some secret Jace didn't. "You've never heard of Dungeons and Dragons?"

"I've heard of dungeons. Also dragons. Although they're mostly extinct."

"You've never killed a dragon?"

"He's probably never met a six-foot-tall hot elf-woman in a fur bikini, either," Clary snapped. "Lay off, Simon."

I failed to see why Jace needed defending but maybe I'm blind.

"Real elves are about eight inches tall, also, they bite. And what would the purpose of a fur bikini be?" he asked. "Unless someone would like to model one for me."

I made a sound of disgust and he shot me a suggestive smile.

"But vampires are hot, right?" Simon asked, needing some reassurance. "I mean, some of the vampires are babes, aren't they?"

"Some of them, maybe," Jace admitted.

"Boys," I sighed, shaking my head, also shaking off the conversation. Clary looked ready to punch someone.

"So are we going to search the house, or not?" Jace asked, holding out his hand to help me down off the railing.

Simon leaped up. "I'm game. What are we looking for?"

"We?" One blonde eyebrow arched delicately. "I don't remember inviting you along."

"_Jace,_" Clary scolded.

He turned his superior gaze to her. "I don't believe I invited you either."

"Seriously?" Now it was my turn to scold.

Jace met my tone. "She may have Clave blood but she can't protect herself."

"I can hear you," Clary pointed out.

"And they'll just follow you anyways," I added.

"They'd follow _us_," he corrected and gestured to the door. "Shall we?"

Clary marched to the door and jerked at the knob. "It's locked."

"Allow me, mundane." Jace inched her aside and took out his stele, working at the door.

"He's a piece of work, isn't he?" Simon muttered. "How do you stand him?"

"He saved my life."

"How-"

Jace opened the door with a flourish. "Here we go." He stood aside and motioned for me to go inside. Almost the second I was through the door, I heard it snap shut behind Jace and saw him quickly drawing a rune on the door.

"What are you doing?" I hissed.

He glanced at me. "Keeping them out of trouble."

"You know, I won't be much help either. I have none of your special training."

A muted banging came from the other side of the door. Jace smiled to himself, pleased, before responding to me. "Your baby sister killed a Ravener demon with luck and almost got two of you killed in the process. You knowingly killed one of the Forsaken while injured. If I had to pick one of you to scout out a possibly hostile situation with, it'd be you."

I chose not to respond and turned instead to peering around the dim storage room we were standing in. Beside me, Jace held up some sort of light. I squinted, eyes adjusting.

"Witchlight," he explained.

I nodded and moved towards the far side of the room where I knew another door was located. Jace moved off in a different direction, climbing over boxes of books.

"Look at these," he called softly, voice carrying.

I turned and saw immediately what he was talking about.

"Manacles," I said simply, feeling queasy. "Urgh."

With his free hand, Jace reached up and tugged at the manacles, a gentle rain of plaster fell on his head. "There's blood and these and someone tried to yank them free. Almost did, too."

"Do you think it's Luke's?" I asked, worried.

Jace let go of the manacles and made his way to me. "I think we'd better find out."

I led the way up to the book lined apartment. It appeared to be empty but when I touched one of the lamps it was still warm. "He was here recently."

"It's in better condition than your place," he pointed out.

I glanced around. He was right, of course. Everything was still there, where it should be. "I think Clary has some extra clothes here, she'd probably appreciate them." Without waiting for him, I crossed to the tiny guest bedroom. Whenever Jocelyn had been out of town when we were younger, we'd stayed with Luke. Clary stayed in the bedroom and I slept on the couch. Once we'd gotten older, I'd convinced Jocelyn to let me stay at our apartment by myself. I hated be alone at night, but at least I got to sleep somewhere comfortable. There just wasn't room for two teenagers at Luke's.

With a distinct lack of care, I kicked her little backpack out from under the bed and slung it over my shoulder. She'd be glad to see the ratty thing. A quick glance around the room showed that there was nothing more worth grabbing.

"Jace?" I called, stepping back into the hall.

"In here." He was in Luke's office, examining a green duffel bag that was resting on the desk. It was full of weapons – knives, a whip, and something that reminded me of a modified version of a throwing star.

"It's a _chakhram_," Jace answered my silent question.

"Like, from Xena?" I asked.

"What?"

"Nevermind."

"I think this is your sister's, by the way." He handed me a cracked picture frame showing Clary, Luke, Jocelyn, and me. I stared at it in amazement.

"This must have been what she threw at the demon…"

"It's cracked," Jace observed.

"This must have been what she threw at the demon," I repeated, louder for his benefit.

"You said that once."

"Apparently that wasn't enough. But this means Luke was at the apartment."

"He must have been the last person to come through the Portal. That explains why it brought us here," Jace commented.

At the same moment we both grew alert, hearing the distant rumble of a truck.

"He's home," I whispered.

In two strides, Jace crossed over to the door and peered through. "And he's not alone. Warlocks." He breathed the last word like a curse.

"Crap."

Jace moved away from the door. "Is there some other way out of here? A back door?"

"No."

Desperately, he glanced around the room, finally deciding on a rosewood screen. "Get behind that. Now."

"No need to be so bossy," I hissed as I ran, not feeling the sarcasm.

Jace shoved himself behind the screen after me, pulling out his stele just as the door could be heard opening. Three sets of footsteps entered the office. At eye level, Jace was drawing runes across the screen. As I watched a patch of screen went clear, providing a perfect viewing window.

I was almost terrified to breathe, afraid I would make too much noise and alert them of our presence. Jace's breath on the back of my neck wasn't helping either. He moved minutely to see better, resting a hand on my shoulder to keep me still. One irritated glance for him and then back to watching the men through the window.

Luke looked the same as usual. Healthy enough but he seemed to be terribly tired. I wondered if he'd been getting enough sleep.

"Yes, fell free to look around. Nice of you to show such an interest," Luke said, voice dripping sarcasm.

My attention was directed towards the two men Jace had called warlocks. They wore burgundy robes, hoods pushed back. One was tall and one was short. The tall one had a mustache and beard combination that reminded me of V while the other had a military cut and dark purple skin. Suddenly, I became aware that the hand on my shoulder was clamped there very tightly. One glance at Jace explained it. His entire countenance had changed and now he was rigid and frozen. I reached up and rested my hand on his. His eyes were as hard as his face when they met mine but I did not move my hand.

"Consider this a friendly follow-up, Graymark," said the V impersonator.

"There's nothing friendly about you, Pangborn." Luke sat down on the desk, conveniently blocking the duffle bag from view. I noticed his wrists looked raw, apparently it had been his blood.

"Blackwell, don't touch that – it's valuable," Luke barked.

The purple skinned man held up the little figurine he had. "Nice."

"A figure from Indian myths," Pangborn said. "'Oh, Kali, my mother full of bliss! Enchantress of the almighty Shiva, in thy delirious joy thou dancest, clappying thy hands together. Thou art the Mover of all that moves, and we are but they helpless toys.'"

"Very nice," Luke commented. "I didn't know you were a student of the Indian myths."

"All myths are true. Or have you forgotten even that?"

"I forget nothing." There was more than one meaning behind Luke's words. "I suppose Valentine sent you?"

"He did," said the tall one. "He thought you might have changed your mind."

"There's nothing to change my mind about. I already told you I don't know anything. Nice cloaks, by the way."

"Thanks." The purple skinned man grinned disturbingly. "Skinned them off a couple of dead warlocks."

"Those are official Accord robes, aren't they? Are they from the Uprising?"

"Spoils of battle."

"Aren't you afraid someone might mistake you for the real thing?" Luke asked.

"Not once they get up close," Blackwell said terribly.

"Do you remember the Uprising, Lucian?" Pangborn spoke with an intimate gentleness. "That was a great and terrible day. Do you remember how we trained together for the battle?"

"The past is the past. I don't know what to tell you gentle men. I can't help you now. I don't know anything."

"Anything is such a general word, so unspecific," sighed Pangborn. "Surely someone who owns so many books must know something."

"If you want to know where to find a jog-toed swallow in springtime, I could direct you to the correct reference title. But if you want to know where the Mortal Cup has disappeared to…"

"Disappeared is not quite the correct word," Pangborn interrupted. "Hidden more like. Hidden by Jocelyn."

"That may be," Luke admitted. "So hasn't she told you where it is yet?"

Pangborn waved his hand through the air. "She has not yet regained consciousness. Valentine is disappointed. He was looking forward to their reuinion."

"I'm sure she didn't reciprocate the sentiment."

An evil laugh. "Jealous, Graymark? Perhaps you no longer feel about her the way you used to."

Jocelyn was alive! I silently sighed in relief. One good thing from this situation. Jocelyn was alive.

"I never felt any way about her, particularly. Two Shadowhunters, exiled from their own kind. You can see why we might have banded together. But I'm not going to try to interfere with Valentine's plans for her, if that's what he's worried about."

"I wouldn't say he was worried… more curious. We all wondered if you were still alive. Still recognizably human," Pangborn said.

"And?"

"You seem well enough," he admitted. "There were a children, weren't there? Girls?"

Luke looked surprised. "What?"

"Don't play dumb. We know the bitch had kids, they found photos in her apartment, a bedroom-"

"I thought you were asking about children of mine," Luke interrupted. "Yes, there were children. Jocelyn had a daughter, Clarissa. And there was Jaelyn as well. I assume they've run off. Did Valentine send you to find them?"

"Not us," said Pangborn. "But he is looking. He's very intrigued by the one you call Jaelyn."

"We could search this place," Blackwell added.

"I wouldn't advice it." Luke's voice had turned menacing. "What makes you think they're still alive? I thought Valentine sent Raveners to scour the place. Enough Ravener poison, and most people will crumble away to ashes, leave no trace behind."

I swallowed nervously.

"There was a dead Ravener. It made Valentine suspicious."

"Everything makes Valentine suspicious," Luke pointed out. "Maybe Jocelyn killed it. She was certainly capable."

"Maybe."

Luke shrugged. "Look, I've got no idea where the girls are, but for what it's worth, I'd guess they're dead. One of them would have turned up by now otherwise. Anyway, they're not much danger. One's fifteen and the other's, what, sixteen? They've never heard of Valentine and don't believe in demons."

Pangborn chuckled. "Fortunate children."

"Not anymore."

"You sound angry, Lucian."

"I'm not angry, I'm exasperated. I'm not planning on interfering with Valentine's plans, do you understand that? I'm not a fool."

"Really?" asked Blackwell. "It's nice to see that you've developed a healthy respect for your own skin over the years, Lucian. You weren't always so pragmatic."

"You do know that we'd trade her, Jocelyn, for the Cup?" Pangborn mentioned. "Safely delivered, right to your door. That's a promise from Valentine himself."

"I know. I'm not interested. I don't know where your precious Cup is, and I don't want to get involved in your politics. I hate Valentine, but I respect him. I know he'll mow down everyone in his path. I intend to be out of his way when it happens. He's a monster – a killing machine."

"Look who's talking," snarled Blackwell.

"I take it these are your preparations for removing yourself from Valentine's path?" Pangborn inquired, indicating the duffel bag. "Getting out of town, Lucian?"

"Going to the country. I plan to lay low for a while.

"We could stop you," Blackwell suggested. "Make you stay."

Luke's smile was feral. "You could try."

The two men glanced at each other before turning to Luke. "You'll notify us if you experience any sudden memory resurgence?"

"You'll be first on my list to call."

Pangborn nodded. "I suppose we'll take our leave. The Angel guard you, Lucian."

"The Angel does not guard those like me. On your way gentlemen?" He scooped up his bag and the three of them left the room, Luke shutting the door behind himself.

Immediately, I pried Jace's hand from my numb shoulder. He look startled that it took me that much effort and then abashed as he realized how tightly he'd been gripping me, all the while that same icy stillness was present on his face.

"What's up?" I asked softly, afraid to raise my voice.

"What's up?" he repeated. "We know who would send a demon after your mother and those men think she has the Mortal Cup and all you can say is _what's up_?"

"I don't always see the point in voicing my concern," I said bitterly.

"Have you ever seen those men before?"

"No. Trust me, I'd remember." I shuddered.

"Lucian seemed to know them. To be friendly with them."

"That might be stretching it a bit," I said cautiously.

"They didn't kill him," Jace pointed out. "They think he knows more than he's telling."

"Or maybe they just didn't feel like killing point blank?"

His laugh was all things wrong with the world. "I doubt that."

"Do you know them?"

Jace's face went entirely blank, looking not at me, but through me. "Do I know them?" he echoed. "You might say that. Those are the men who murdered my father."


	11. Puhsgetti and Soup

**Gah, I'd like to take the time and apologize for the atrocious spelling/grammar in the last chapter. That's what I get for staying up past my bedtime. . Anywho, I feel like I've got some explaining to do based off of the reviews I've been getting so here goes nothing. **

**I keep saying that the story is going to change, however that probably won't really happen until I start working on covering (Is that what you'd call it? I know that's what you'd call this for a song, but for a book? Who knows? Do you know? 'Cause I don't know.) City of Ashes. City of Bones has a ton of explaining. The entire story is pretty much the exposition for the series.**

**Addressing the behavior/personality of Clary: The majority of Clary's lines are straight from the book so if you think she seems ruder (that sounds funny) in this series it's probably because it doesn't explain why she does the thing she does. And don't worry, I have plans. -insert evil smile here-**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE MORTAL INSTRUMENTS! IF I DID... I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT I'D DO IF I DID OWN THEM BECAUSE I DON'T.**

* * *

"That's terrible," I whispered.

"We should go." He led the way back through the storage room and onto Luke's porch where Simon and Clary waited sullenly. I had barely stepped outside before my sister was bombarding me with questions.

"Did you see Luke? We heard his truck pull up. He wasn't alone, was he? What did he say? You did talk to him, didn't you?"

I shut her up by tossing her her bag. "Here."

"Oh my gosh, thank you Jaci," she said, immediately digging through the contents.

"And we did see Luke," I said. "He didn't see us though."

"How-?" Clary began.

I cast a quick look over at Jace who was much too calm. "I'll explain later. We have to go now."

"Does anyone want to tell me where we're going?" Simon asked.

"To the L train," Jace responded.

"You've got to be kidding me. Demon slayers take the subway?"

"It's faster than driving."

"I thought it'd be something cooler," Simon admitted, "like a van with 'Death to Demons' painted on the side, or…"

"Simon," Clary said. "Enough."

Simon glared at Clary as though she had betrayed him. He'd get over it soon enough. Jace looked horrible, I noted. Not unattractive, of course, I don't think he could manage to be unattractive if he tried. He looked horrible in the evil way, like he was about to go on a killing spree. The mental image of Jace standing amongst the carnage from such an incident made me shudder. But what was worse was the fact that it hadn't taken much imagination.

"You live _here_?" Simon asked once we reached the Institute. It took me a moment to realize he couldn't see the building in its true splendor, just the glamour. "But it's a church."

Jace pulled a key on a chain out from under his shirt and unlocked the door. "We find it useful to inhabit hallowed ground."

"I get that but, no offense, this place is a dump."

"I've noticed that that when people say 'no offense' they generally end up saying something rather offensive," I commented.

The corner of Jace's mouth twitched, the first sign of emotion he had showed since Luke's.

"It's a glamour, Simon. It doesn't really look like this," Clary explained.

"If this is your idea of glamour, I'm having second thoughts about letting you make me over."

Jace held the door cracked open and turned to Simon, deadly serious. "I'm not sure you're quite sensible of the honor I'm doing you. You'll be the first mundane who has ever been inside the Institute."

"Probably the smell keeps the rest of them away."

"Ignore him," Clary suggested. "He always says exactly what comes into his head. No filters."

"Filters are for cigarettes and coffee. Two things I could use right now, incidentally," Simon said.

"Ew," I muttered and stepped inside the Institute, basking in the coolness of the interior. We rode the elevator in silence and I began to wonder where my cat might be and how soon I would be able to shower.

The elevator came to a stop and we were in the artsy entryway. Jace whistled and Church appeared, followed by Peeta.

"Church," Jace said, kneeling down to scratch the cat's head. "Where's Alec, Church? Where's Hodge?"

The cat meowed and Peeta came closer, peering at Jace with almost hostile curiosity. Jace reached a hand out towards him.

"Are they in the library?" he asked the cats.

With a flick of his tail, Church trotted off down the corridor, Peeta running to catch up to the older cat. As though following cats around was something he did on a regular basis, Jace followed after him and motioned for the rest of us to follow.

"I don't like cats," Simon announced.

"It's unlikely, knowing Church, that he likes you either. And Peeta only seems to like Jaci."

I shrugged. "He's one of a kind."

"A stuck up prick?" Jace suggested.

"Actually, I was thinking more loyal. Don't insult my cat."

We were now walking side by side, Clary and Simon a little ways behind us, having a private conversation. "So he's your cat? I thought he was a family pet."

"Nope, just mine."

"How long have you had him?"

"Erm… four days?" I mentally counted. That seemed to be about right.

"So long?" Jace asked. "No wonder he's utterly devoted to you. Why did you randomly get a cat?"

"It wasn't random. As I mentioned earlier, I'm seventeen," I pointed out.

He laughed. "So? There are a lot of people in the world who are seventeen. Myself, for instance."

I sighed. "I'm seventeen as of today."

"Is _that _what that 'six hours' nonsense was about?"

"Mmhmm…."

Our conversation died off as we walked into the kitchen. I'd been there before but the gleaming modernism still took me by surprise. Isabelle stood over the stove, face red, attending a pot of… some unidentified substance. Judging by the counters, she'd been working at her concoction for awhile, too.

"I'm making soup," she announced as Clary and Simon appeared in the doorway. "Are you hungry?" And that's when she noticed Simon. "Oh, my God. You brought another mundie here? Hodge is going to kill you."

"I'm Simon," Simon said horsely.

"Jace Wayland, explain yourself!" Isabelle demanded, brandishing a spoon like a weapon.

Jace glared at the cats who were making themselves at home on the kitchen floor. "I told you to bring me to Alec! Backstabbing bastards."

"Don't blame the cats," I said.

"She's right. It's not their fault Hodge is going to kill you." And with a vengeance she returned to her soup.

After a quiet moment Jace spoke. "I had to bring him. Isabelle – today I saw two of the men who killed my father."

She turned slowly back to face us, her dark eyes upset. "I don't suppose he's one of them?"

Jace glanced over his shoulder at Simon. "Of course not. Do you think he'd be alive now if he were?"

Isabelle glanced Simon over as well. "I suppose not." She tossed a piece of fish on the floor and Church attacked it. Peeta sat back on his haunches waiting for Isabelle to drop another piece for him. Which she did.

"No wonder they brought us here. I can't believe you've been stuffing them with fish. Church's looking distinctly podgy," Jace said with disgust.

"Do you have something against fat cats?" I asked.

"Fat cats aren't fast and are utterly worthless," he said coolly.

"Anways," Isabelle said, "he does not look podgy. Besides, none of the rest of you ever eat anything. I got this recipe from a water sprite at the Chelsea Market. He said it was delicious-"

"If you're a cat," Jace muttered.

Isabelle glared at him. "What did you say?"

"I said look at that." He crossed quickly over to the fridge, feigning interest in some random thing. I took a seat at the kitchen island and Clary stalked after Jace.

"That's what I thought you said," Isabelle smirked.

"I can't believe you're eating," I heard Clary hiss angrily.

"What should I be doing instead?" Jace answered. "Hmmm. Spaghetti."

"Don't ruin your appetite," Isabelle reminded.

I glanced at the ingredients for her soup and immediately lost any trace of appetite I had possessed.

"That is exactly what I intend to do." Jace plopped down on the stool next to me holding two forks and a Tupperware container half full of cold spaghetti. "Want some?"

"Sure." He handed me one of the forks and set the container between us. I twirled noodles around the tines of the fork, making sure none trailed off and possibly onto Jace's fork. I didn't really want to reenact the Lady and the Tramp scene.

"Can we go find Hodge now?" Clary asked after about a minute.

"I haven't decided yet," Jace said, wiping sauce off of the corner of his mouth with his thumb. I slurped a noodle and it smacked me in the nose. "You've got a little something right there," Jace said, pointing.

"Thanks," I answered sarcastically, rubbing it off. "I hadn't noticed."

"Jace," Clary said.

"If you want to go so badly-"

"I do."

"Fine." He pushed away from the counter and indicated that I should follow as well.

"Where are you going?" Simon called, turning away from Isabelle for a moment.

"To find Hodge," Clary snapped. "We need to tell him what happened at Luke's."

"You weren't even there," I pointed out.

"Yes I was."

"No, you – well, you were there, but not _there _there. You were outside."

"Jace, are you going to tell him that you saw those men?" Isabelle asked.

"I don't know, so keep it to yourself for now."

She shrugged, letting it go. "All right. Are you going to come back? Do you want any soup?"

"No."

"Jaci, do you want soup?"

"No." I decided to be brutally honest.

"Do you think Hodge will want any soup?"

"No one wants any soup," Jace said.

"_I _want some soup," Simon objected.

"No, you don't. You just want to sleep with Isabelle," Jace stated.

Simon turned crimson and gasped out a denial.

"How flattering," Isabelle murmured.

"You know it's true," Jace said. "Go ahead and ask her – then she can turn you down and the rest of us can get on with our lives while you fester in miserable humiliation."

"Leave him alone," Clary snapped. "There's no need to be sadistic just because he isn't one of _you_."

Jace shrugged, not bothering to point out that Clary had Shadowhunter blood too. "We're going to find Hodge. Come along or not, it's your choice." He grabbed my wrist and pulled me after him, giving me no choice. At first I thought Clary was going to follow but after a few moments it became obvious that she was not.

"Why are you always so rude to her?" I asked.

"Who? Isabelle? Because she's a terrible cook."

I allowed him to see my lack of amusement. "I was talking about Clary, actually."

He looked as though my question confused him. "She's a mundie."

"No she's not and you know it."

Jace thought about that for a few seconds. "Maybe," he admitted eventually. "At least maybe she's not genetically but mentally she is."

I couldn't argue with that, his comment made perfect sense. Clary didn't seem to have any of the excess coordination and balance skills that I had always had. Maybe the block on her mind was causing it.

"Why do you always defend her?" Jace asked.

I studied the floor as we walked, thinking. "Because…" I said finally, "she's my sister."

"That's a terrible reason."

"Why is it a terrible reason? She's my sister, I didn't choose for that, but that's how it is."

"She always attacks you and you're her sister," pointed out Jace.

My mouth twisted involuntarily into a cynical smile. "She doesn't always seem to think so."

"I think Hodge is probably in the greenhouse. He spends most of his time there."

I shrugged. "I wouldn't know."

Jace nodded in acceptance of my statement. "That's true, you wouldn't."

We drew to a stop at the bottom of a metal spiral staircase, Jace skipped onto the first step. "Hodge likes it up here. He grows medicinal plants, things we can use. Most of them only grow in Idris. I think it reminds him of home."

"What does it remind you of?" I asked softly.

He froze suddenly and I was momentarily worried that I'd crossed some nearly invisible line of his. And then I figured, who cares if I crossed his line or not? Too freaking bad.

"It reminds me of my father," he said finally, and continued to climb.

Dead conversation. I've always been horribly awkward in situations like that. I never knew what to say so settled for not saying anything. Saying something like "I'm sorry" would have sounded too fake and generic.

At the top of the stairs, Jace shoved the doors open and walked through in front of me. Stepping nimbly out of the way of one of the doors, I caught my first view of the greenhouse.

Everything was so bright and _alive._ Not like the drab concrete of outside. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of the flowers and berries, even the dirt. _It smells like home_, I thought listlessly. _Just after it rains in the springtime when Mom and Dad would ship me off to my grandparents. _I sighed softly and opened my eyes.

Jace was staring at me sidelong.

"What?" I asked, attempting to pretend there wasn't any blood rushing to my face.

"Your face," he said. "You looked sad."

"Oh. Well… it's just the smell reminds me of…" I couldn't say it for some reason, "somewhere."

"Where?" he pressed.

"Home," I breathed with a stab of longing. I wasn't sure he'd heard me, I'd spoken so softly.

He didn't seem to have; instead of saying anything to me he walked away, through the plants in search of Hodge. I was glad. I didn't want him to see the tears in my eyes, threatening to spill over. How long had I been here? Maybe four days? Already my parents, my brothers, my friends were fading, as though they were only some vivid dream and _this_, this world filled with demons and vampires was my reality. After a few moments to collect myself, I followed Jace's path, finding both him and Hodge waiting by a small pool.

"This is ridiculous," I muttered. "What sort of people have a pond in the attic of a church?" I looked up and met Hodge's kind eyes. Quickly, his gaze turned worried.

"What happened? You look as if-"

"We were attacked," Jace said. "Forsaken."

"Forsaken warriors?" Hodge said in disbelief. "Here?"

"Warrior," I corrected. "There was only one."

"Jaci killed it," Jace said.

A flash of respect crossed Hodge's features.

"And then Dorothea said something about there being more…"

"Dorothea?" Hodge questioned. "This might be easier if you took events in order."

"Right," Jace said. I motioned for him to continue. It was perfectly fine with me if he explained. I had a bad habit of stuttering when trying to recall events and narrate at the same time. Jace told the day's events smoothly, covering everything except the fact that he'd recognized the men who'd spoken to Luke. "Jaci's mother's friend – or whatever he is, really – goes by the name Luke Garroway. But while we were at his house, the two men who claimed they were emissaries of Valentine referred to him as Lucian Graymark."

"And their names were…" I felt like I was listening in on some debriefing. It was weird.

"Pangborn and Blackwell."

It looked as though someone had caused some sort of physical pain to the tutor, his complexion had gone ashen. "It is as I feared. The Circle is rising again."

Jace and I glanced at each other, each silently asking the other.

"The Circle?" Jace asked.

"It sounds familiar…" I said. Actually, I knew exactly what Hodge was talking about but it was like a half-remembered dream. The more I concentrated on it, the less I could recall.

"Come with me," Hodge said. "It's time I showed you something."

"I can't believe there's something you don't know," I said to Jace as we walked down the hall towards the library.

"Despite what it seems like, even I am not all-knowing," he answered. "I thought maybe you'd know something about it."

I checked to make sure he hadn't gone crazy. He looked the same. "Why would I?"

He shrugged. "You knew other things you shouldn't've." We had reached the library and Hodge had already entered. Jace barred the door open with his arm, also blocking me from entering. "Also, the greenhouse smells nothing like New York. Where are you from?"

Moving quickly, I ducked under his arm and sat down on the sofa, curled up in the corner as small as I could make myself. He was only a second behind me, sitting beside me.

"You don't have a New York accent, either," he pointed out.

"Yes I-" But I realized he was right. I still had my Midwest accent. Well, not exactly a pure Midwest accent. Even when I'd been Jaelyn Flynn people had noted that I had a different way of speaking. Someone had once called it "pretty".

"Neither do you," I pointed out.

"I grew up in Idris," he answered. "According to you, you grew up in Brooklyn."

I shrugged. "Well if Jocelyn was a Shadowhunter she probably lived in Idris at one point, right? I probably picked it up from her."

Jace seemed to have problems with admitting other people were right so he turned away from me and to Hodge who had been searching through books and papers. "Hodge, if you need help looking-"

"Not at all." He stood up holding a large, leather bound book. "I've found it." He flipped it open and searched for a specific page, muttering softly to himself. "Here it is! _I hereby render unconditional obedience to the Circle and its principles… I will be ready to risk my life at any time for the Circle, in order to preserve the purity of the bloodlines of Idris, and for the mortal world with whose safety we are charged."_

Jace wrinkled his nose at the passage, as though it had a mildly offensive odor. "What was that from?"

"It was the loyalty oath of the Circle of Raziel, twenty years ago," Hodge explained, setting down the book.

"Is the Clave that cult-like?" I asked with honesty curiosity.

Hodge regarded my question as theoretical. "They were a group of Shadowhunters, led by Valentine, dedicated to wiping out all Downworlders and returning the world to a 'purer' state. Their plan was to wait for the Downworlders to arrive in Idris to sign the Accords. Approximately every fifteen years, they must be signed again, to keep their magic potent," he directed the last bit to me. I nodded in response. "Then, they planned to slaughter them all, unarmed and defenseless. This terrible act, they thought, would spark off a war between humans and Downworlders – one they intended to win."

"The Uprising," Jace said. "I didn't know Valentine and his followers had a name."

"The name isn't spoken often nowadays," Hodge explained. "Their existence remains an embarrassment to the Clave."

"Like the Nazis," I commented.

"Yes. Most documents pertaining to the Circle have been destroyed."

"Then why do you have a copy of the oath?" Jace was unable to keep all of the suspicion from his voice.

Hodge sighed heavily, in defeat. "Because, I helped write it."

"You were in the Circle," Jace stated.

"I was. Many of us were. Jocelyn as well."

I sat still for a few moments, knowing they were both waiting on my reaction. "Tell me," I said finally, "why I'm not particularly surprised."

Hodge seemed to be taken aback by my calm reply but recovered quickly. "Because she had little choice. She was Valentine's wife."

* * *

**Gasp, because we all didn't know that already -.- I mean, really? Why else would Valentine be so obsessed with her?**

**Do me (#AwkwardPause) a favor and review!**


	12. Voldemort is not Mr Sexy

**Hey! Lookie lookie lookie! It's another chapie! Be so proud of me, I didn't think I'd get any writing done today. Oh and, guess what! At the end of this chapter is a... never mind you can read it yourself.**

* * *

"Valentine had a wife? He was _married_?" Jace asked.

"Can't say I'm surprised. It makes sense doesn't it?"

Hodge smiled kindly, as though trying to soften the blow. "Your mother left the Circle. Once we realized how extreme Valentine's views had become – once we knew what he was prepared to do – many of us left. Lucian was the first to leave." Eff yeah, Uncle Luke! "Then Michael Wayland. Your father, Jace."

Jace raised his eyebrows, apparently amused that Hodge had felt the need to specify who Michael Wayland was.

"There were those who stayed loyal. Pangborn. Blackwell. The Lightwoods-"

Jace was thunderstruck. "The Lightwoods? You mean Robert and Maryse? What about you? When did you leave?"

"I didn't. Neither did they… We were afraid, too afraid of what he might do. After the Uprising the loyalists like Blackwell and Pangborn fled. We stayed and cooperated with the Clave. Gave them names. Helped them track down the ones who had run away. For that we received clemency."

"Clemency?" Jace shot a quick look at Hodge and leaned forward where he sat.

"You are thinking of the curse that binds me here, aren't you?" Hodge asked. "You assumed it was a vengeance spell cast by an angry demon or warlock. I let you think it. But it is not the truth. The curse that binds me was cast by the Clave."

"For being in the Circle?" Jace asked.

"For not leaving it before the Uprising."

Jace leaned back again. He looked both lost and bewildered which I suppose was understandable, he'd just found out that the people he'd trusted weren't so honest after all. Were there any healthy relationships the boy had?

"The Lightwoods," I said. "What was their punishment?"

"They were banished here and can only return to Idris on official business, and then only for short times. I can never return. I will never see the Glass City again." His voice was choked with a harsh longing and regret.

"The Law is hard, but it is the Law," Jace said without emotion.

"I taught you that," Hodge said. "And now you turn me lessons back at me. Rightly too."

"So my mom's not really Jocelyn Fray."

Hodge half turned away so he wasn't looking at me. "I knew her as Jocelyn Fairchild. Your sister insisted her ignorance of the Shadow World so much that I believed it could not be the Jocelyn I knew – and perhaps it did not take too much to make me thing that. No one would wish for Valentine's return." He paused and crossed over to the window, looking utterly spent. "When I sent for the Brothers of the Bone City this morning, I had no idea just what news we would have for them. When the Clave finds out Valentine may have returned, that he is seeking the Cup, there will be an uproar. I can only hope it does not disrupt the Accords."

"I bet it does," I said. "It's too much of a coincidence."

"I bet you're right," said Jace. "Why does Valentine want the Cup so badly?"

Hodge laughed. A dark, cynical, mocking sound. "Isn't that obvious? So he can build himself an army."

"But that would never-"

"Dinnertime!"

We all whipped around to see Isabelle standing in the doorway, cooking spoon still at hand. "Sorry if I'm interrupting." She didn't sound sorry at all, to be honest.

"Dear God. The dread hour is nigh," Jace said.

I swallowed nervously, not trusting my voice and thinking of a million excuses to deny any offer of soup.

"I – I – I had a very filling breakfast," Hodge stuttered. "I mean lunch. A filling lunch. I couldn't possibly eat-"

"I threw out the soup," she said dryly. "And ordered Chinese from that place downtown."

Jace got to his feet and stretched. "Great. I'm starved."

"I might be able to eat a bite," Hodge said.

I made a face that Jace saw.

"What?" he asked.

"There are only a few kinds of food I can't stand: sea food and anything Oriental."

"That's terrible," he commented.

"Don't worry," Isabelle waved her spoon dismissively, "Clary told me. I got something together for you." Her smile was slightly evil.

"Well, I, um… thanks… erm I guess." Awesome. They really need to invent a sarcasm font.

"You're all terrible liars," Isabelle sighed irritably. "Look, I know you don't like my cooking-"

"So stop doing it." Jace's tone was gentle. "Did you order mu shu pork? You know I love mu shu pork."

"Yes. It's in the kitchen."

Jace grinned and slipped past her, followed by Hodge.

"Are you coming?" Isabelle asked me.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Sorry, zoned out for a second."

Neither of us moved. It was strange. It was also the first time I'd been alone with Isabelle since I'd arrived at the Institute. The other girl made me feel short even though I really wasn't.

"Is Clary really your sister?" Isabelle asked suddenly. "You don't look related."

"You're asking if I'm adopted?" I clarified. "Who knows? Jocelyn never told me and Luke never bothered to mention it either."

Isabelle glanced in the general direction of the kitchen. "If I were you, I'd desperately wish I was adopted."

* * *

I took a bite and smiled. Mmm. Supreme pizza was, in my opinion, a gift from God himself. The taste was only slightly marred by the smell of the Chinese, but I could handle that. Everyone else was dining on glazed duckling and other foods I found mildly repulsive.

"Well, I think it's kind of romantic," Isabelle said after Hodge had filled everyone in on the Jocelyn/Valentine information. Clary was still in shock.

"What is?" Simon asked, alert for the first time.

"The whole business about their mother being married to Valentine," she explained.

I almost gagged on my pizza. "How is that _romantic_?"

Isabelle shrugged. "He came back from the dead and is looking for her. Maybe he wants to get back together."

"I kind of doubt he sent a Ravener demon to her house because he wants to 'get back together,'" Alec said dryly, picking apart his food. I guessed his disgruntlement stemmed from the fact that he was situated directly across from Clary. He'd been distinctly grumpy since she'd woken up.

"It wouldn't be my move," Jace said. "First the candy and flowers, then the apology letters, _then _the ravenous demon hordes. In that order."

"Wouldn't the apology letters go before the candy and flowers? So she knew who it all came from?" I asked.

"How about just leave out the apology letters altogether?" he responded.

"He might have sent her candy and flowers," Isabelle pointed out, still stuck on her romantic spree. "We don't know."

"Isabelle," Hodge said as though he were explaining to a toddler, "this is a man who rained down destruction on Idris the likes of which it had never seen, who set Shadowhunter against Downworlder and made the streets of Glass City run with blood."

"Urgh," I set my pizza down, "too in depth."

Hodge cast me an apologetic look while Jace sneered. "What sort of Shadowhunter are you? Getting sick just talking about blood."

"She's not a Shadowhunter," Clary muttered. Everyone ignored her.

"It's not just talking about blood, it's talking about blood while I'm eating while I'm still covered in my own blood. It's rather unappetizing," I explained.

"She has a point," Alec admitted.

I grinned. "Thank you."

"But the evil thing is sort of hot," Isabelle said, steering the conversation back to where it had been.

"Oh yeah," I agreed sarcastically. "Totally. In a going-to-kill-your-friends-and-family kind of way."

"Oh come on," Isabelle argued. "Tell me _one _movie where the bad guy isn't Mr. Sexy."

"Harry Potter. I don't know about you, but I find nothing attractive about a guy who's half snake."

"But wasn't he hot before he went all creepy?" Isabelle asked.

"Shush."

Simon asked, "So why does Valentine want this Cup so bad, and why does he think Mrs. Fray has it?"

"You said it could make an army," Clary spoke for the first time. "You mean because you can use the Cup to make Shadowhunters?"

"Yes."

"So Valentine could just walk up to any guy on the street and make a Shadowhunter out of him? Just with the Cup?" Simon didn't allow time for a response. "Would it work on me?"

There was a pause while Hodge considered Simon. "Possibly. But most likely, you're too old. The Cup works on children. An adult would either be unaffected by the process entirely, or killed outright."

"A child army," Isabelle breathed.

"Only for a few years," said Jace, compassionate as ever. "Kids grow fast. It wouldn't be too long before they were a force to contend with."

"I don't know," Simon said. "Turning a bunch of kids into warriors, I've heard of worse stuff happening. I don't see the big deal about keeping the Cup away from him."

"You've _got _to be kidding me." I stared at him. Kids? As warriors? He thought that was _okay_?

"Leaving out that he would inevitably use this army to launch an attack on the Clave-"

"No _child _should be trained to kill," I interrupted.

"Jaci's right," Alec said. Jeez, look who was getting support from the moody section. Plus one, Jaci.

"A lot of things that shouldn't happen do," Jace reminded me, giving me a significant look.

"The reason," Hodge said loudly, attempting to regain control of our discussion, "that only a few humans are selected to be turned into Nephilim is that most would never survive the transition. It takes special strength and resilience. Before they can be turned, they must be extensively tested – but Valentine would never bother with that. He would use the Cup on any child he could capture, and cull out the twenty percent who survived to be his army."

A horror stricken silence fell over us all.

"How do you know he'd do that?" Alec asked finally.

"Because when he was in the Circle, that was his plan," said Hodge, his voice grave. "He said it was the only way to build the kind of force that was needed to defend our world."

"But that's murder," Isabelle said softly. "He was talking about killing children."

"He said that we had made the world safe for humans for a thousand years and now was their time to repay us with their own sacrifice?"

"Their _children_?" Jace and I demanded.

"That goes against everything we're supposed to be about. Protecting the helpless, safeguarding humanity-"

"And people followed Valentine? What did he ever sacrifice? Did he give his kids a twenty percent survival rate too?"

"Valentine was insane," Hodge said over us. "Brilliant, but insane. He cared about nothing but killing demons and Downworlders. Nothing but making the world pure. He would have sacrificed his own son for the cause and could not understand how anyone else would not."

"He had a son?" Alec asked.

Beads of sweat glistened on Hodge's forehead. "I was speaking figuratively. When his land burned, when his home was destroyed, it was assumed that he had burned himself and the Cup to ashes rather than relinquish either to the Clave. His bones were found in the ashes, along with the bones of his wife."

"But our mother lived," Clary pointed out. And then for emphases: "She didn't die in that fire."

"And neither, it seems now, did Valentine." Hodge sighed and pushed his food away from him as though he were sick of it. "The Clave will not be pleased to have been fooled. But more importantly, the will want to secure the Cup. And more importantly than that, they will want to make sure Valentine does not."

"It seems to me that the first thing we'd better do is find Jaci and Clary's mother," Jace said. "Find her, find the Cup, get it before Valentine does."

"Absolutely not." Hodge's voice was more firm than I'd ever heard it and he was leaning forward rigidly in his chair.

"Then what do we do?"

"Nothing. All this is best left to skilled, experienced Shadowhunters.

"I am skilled. I am experienced," Jace protested.

Hodge still spoke firmly. "I know that you are, but you're still a child, or nearly one."

Jace's eyes narrowed to slits. "I am _not _a child."

In that moment, I reconsidered Isabelle's idea that evil was hot. Evil still wasn't attractive, but dangerous was.

"Hodge is right," said Alec, resting a hand on Jace's arm, attempting to calm him. "Valentine is dangerous. I know you're a good Shadowhunter. You're probably the best our age. But Valentine's one of the best there ever was. It took a huge battle to bring him down."

"And he didn't exactly stay down," Isabelle added. "Aparently."

"But we're here," Jace argued. "We're here and because of the Accords, nobody else is. Jaci?"

I stared blankly back at him. Why was he turning to me? _Because he knows you're the only one crazy enough to back him up_. "I-erm… Jace, they have a point. There's what, three of you-?"

"Four of us," he corrected.

"Three of you," I repeated firmly. "I hardly count. All I know how to do is poke the bad things with knives. And I just got lucky with that Forsaken. I _want_ to do something, but I don't know if we really can."

"We are going to do something," Hodge said. "I'll send the Clave a message tonight. They could have a force of Nephilim here by tomorrow if they wanted. They'll take care of this. You have done more than enough."

Jace leaned back, giving up the fight. "I don't like it."

"That's not exactly the doing something I was talking about," I agreed.

"Well you don't have to like it," Alec said, looking steadily at Jace and then me. "You just have to shut up and not do anything stupid."

"What about my mother?" Clary demanded.

"_Our _mother, darling. I'm still here."

"Whatever." She closed her eyes briefly as though dealing with me used all of her energy. "She can't wait for some representative from the Clave to show up. Valentine has her right now – Pangborn and Blackwell said so – and he could be…"

"Hurting her," I said solidly. I could face the truth spoken aloud.

"Except, Clary," Simon said, "they also said she was unconscious and that Valentine wasn't happy about it. He seems to be waiting for her to wake up."

"I'd stay unconscious if I were her." I completely agreed with Isabelle.

"But that could be any time," said Clary as though Isabelle hadn't spoken. "I thought the Clave was pledged to protect people. Shouldn't there be Shadowhunters here right now? Shouldn't they already be searching for her?"

"Well seeing as she's a Shadowhunter in _exile _and the Clave thought she was _dead_, I'm not surprised they're not," I said.

"And it would be easier," Alec said wearily, "if we had the slightest idea where to look."

"We do," Jace said dully.

Clary bounced in her seat. "You do? Where?"

Jace leaned back and gestured towards her. "Your head."

Clary reached up and touched her forehead. "I don't think-"

"So what are you going to do?" Simon demanded. "Cut her head open to get at it."

"Not at all. The Silent Brothers can help her retriever her memories."

Isabelle paled. "You hate the Silent Brothers."

"I don't hate them, I'm afraid of them," Jace said calmly. "It's not the same thing."

"I thought Hodge said they were librarians," Clary protested.

"They are librarians."

"Those must be some killer late fees," Simon joked.

"The Silent Brothers are archivists, but that is not all they are," Hodge said sharply. "In order to strengthen their minds, they have chosen to take upon themselves some of the most powerful runes ever created. The power of these runes is so great that the use of them – Well, it warps and twists their physical forms. They are not warriors in the sense that other Shadowhunters are warriors. Their powers are of the mind, not the body."

"They can read minds?" Clary asked quietly.

"I believe he said that."

"Jaci, there is a time to be smart and there is a time to keep your comments to yourself," Hodge said. "Yes, Clary. Among other things. They are among the most feared of all demon hunters."

"I don't know, it doesn't sound so bad to me," Simon said. "I'd rather have someone mess around inside my head than chop it off."

Jace scoffed. "Then you're a bigger idiot than you look."

"Jace is right," Isabelle agreed. "The Silent Brothers are really creepy."

"I'm always right," Jace said extremely quietly. I was the only one who heard.

"They are very powerful," Hodge said harshly. "They walk in darkness and do not speak, but they can crack open a man's mink the way you might crack open a walnut – and leave him screaming alone in the dark if that is what they desire."

Clary glared at Jace. "You want to give me to _them_?"

"Sounds like fun," I commented. Clary turned to glare at me. "Oh come on, you know I'm kidding."

"I want them to _help_ us," Jace said. "Maybe we don't get to look for the Cup but we can tell the Clave where to look and then they can find your mother."

"I don't want someone else inside my head," Clary protested, but I knew she had caved.

"Someone will go with you," Jace said. "They'll stay with you while they do it."

"That's enough," Simon said, standing up as though ready for a fight. "Leave her alone."

Alec's bottle blue eyes slid over to Simon. "What are you still doing here, mundane?"

"I said, leave her alone."

Jace turned to Simon with a horrible amusement in his eyes. "Alec is right. The Institute is sworn to shelter Shadowhunters, not their mundane friends. Especially when they've worn out their welcome."

Isabelle got to her feet. "I'll show him out." Simon held his chin up as Isabelle led him away.

"I think I'm going to be sick," I said evenly, pushing away from the table with too much force and stalking out of the room. Behind me I heard Clary murmur something and make her exit as well. I didn't wait around in the hall for her but instead headed for my room and the hot shower I desperately needed.

Peeta meowed in protested when I slammed the door to my room. Ignoring him, I immediately pulled off my blood encrusted shirt and threw it on the floor before grabbing my pajamas and going into the attached bathroom. As I was closing the door to the bathroom I heard the door of the room open. I froze.

"Jaci?"

I closed the door with a snap and locked it for good measure. "Go away, Jace."

"Jaci, what's wrong?" he called. His voice was muffled by the door.

"Go away, Jace," I repeated.

"I have my stele. I could open this door."

"I've got a knife. I could stab you."

"You'd have to open the door first."

"Then you'd better hope I don't," I called and turned on the water for the shower, hoping he'd get the hint.

And apparently he did. I was able to shower in peace. I pulled on the clothes I had been using as pajamas, an obscure band t-shirt and Jace's pajama pants that I still hadn't returned. They were comfortable, okay? I towel dried my hair and pulled it back in a messy knot, pulling my bangs free. As soon as I'd finished brushing my teeth, the bathroom door swung open.

"Who takes a shower that lasts forty-five minutes?" Jace asked, leaning against the doorjamb and crossing his arms over his bare chest.

"A girl?" I suggested, busying myself with getting some dental floss so as to avoid staring at the half naked boy. Abs like that took major dedication.

"Do you realize how much water you wasted?" he asked. "I waited here for ten minutes before I went to my room and showered, came back, and waited another ten minutes. Are you trying to use all the hot water in New York?"

"You know," I said, probably very attractively seeing as I was flossing my molars at the time, "you really shouldn't've come back."

"I need to talk to you."

"Yeah well," I put all my little toiletries away in a small travel case, "maybe I don't want to talk to you." I pushed past him, hand brushing his stomach, and dug out a medicine bottle from the end of my duffle bag. Thank God it was there. I was in desperate need of painkillers.

"What's that?" Jace demanded sharply.

"Ibuprofen. Relax." But apparently he wasn't going to relax, before I even really realized what he was doing, he'd snatched the bottle away from me. "Hey!"

"You don't need this." He tossed the bottle in the garbage can near the door.

I sighed in irritation. "You're an ass, Wayland. Do you even know what ibuprofen is?"

"Pain killers. What do you need those for?"

"I have a headache."

"Deal with it."

Seriously? I glared at him before reaching up and letting my hair down. He watched me. "Make yourself useful and get me the brush on the counter in the bathroom," I ordered.

To my surprise, he obeyed.

"Those are my pants," he commented.

"What do you want, Jace?" I asked, pulling the brush through my hair.

"To talk."

"You mentioned that." I threw the brush in my bag and pulled back the covers on the bed, sliding the cat out of the way. "What do you want to talk _about_?"

The corner of his mouth twisted up. "Going to sleep, Jaci?"

"I'm tired so hurry up and spit it out or get out."

"Your hospitality is astonishing. I've never come across its equal."

I sat cross legged on the bed and waited. Peeta crawled onto my lap and quickly fell asleep.

"Can I sit down?" Jace asked after a few moments of silence. He still had that cocky amused tone in his voice. I pinched the bridge of my nose, headache growing worse, and gestured to the edge of the bed.

"I have something to say," he began.

"You have a lot of things to say. That doesn't mean I want to hear them right now."

Jace laughed and I fought back the urge to hit him. All I wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep but no. Mr. Sexy Shadowhunter had to show up.

"Fine then, if you're not going to tell me get out," I snapped, setting Peeta on my pillow and getting up to open the door for him.

"Jaci," he protested.

"Get the hell out of my room, Jace Wayland."

He got up slowly, his eyes sad and apologetic. With heavy steps he walked towards me. "What's wrong, Jaci?"

"All day you've been an ass and I am sick of it. Now get out." I had reached the breaking point what with Jace and Clary and Simon and Jace all acting like jerks.

He paused in the doorway and turned back to me. "Happy birthday, Jaci," he said quietly, bending to touch his lips to my cheek.

Stunned, I watched him walk away.

* * *

**POAIEJKFA;SDLKFJASD A JACE AND JACI SCENE! What'd'ya think? Was it absolutely terrible? Did you luuuuurve it? Were you hoping more would happen? **

**Because if you answered yes to the last question you'll be... Nah, I'll wait for you people to read the next chapter. But here's the deal, Imma hold that for ransom. Review like mad if you want to find out what this whole little author's note is about because if you don't... I'll still post the next chapter, I'll just cut part of it out. Mwah-ha-ha-ha!**

**(Ever notice that the beginning sound of evil laughter and the kissy sound are super uber similar?)**


	13. The Fear of Being Buried Alive

**So um... wow. I was going to hold out on this first little add in piece of the chapter until I got like, five reviews but I got ten. o.O Ten? What? No one reads this story? Where did these reviews come from? ALDJF;AKLASDFODFA;'JADKL I don't know, but I like them lots. And so since there are so many reviews for the last chapter I was all "Dude, you gotta write more. Like right NAO." So I really hope this nifty lil chapter makes sense because I'm like a zombie right now. I'm all "Write... words... food... nom nom... mehhhhhh... write..."**

**Disclaimer: I does not own teh Mortal Instrumentsss. Mmkee.**

* * *

I had literally just fallen asleep when Peeta started hissing. It didn't take me long to find why. A narrow strip of light fell across the blankets; however it wasn't a complete beam. A shadow blocked part of it. The door opened farther, admitting a dark silhouette before it closed softly. I didn't dare move as I heard someone cross the darkened room.

"I only know one person who is enough of a creeper to sneak into girls' rooms at night," I said. "What are you doing, Jace?"

His low chuckle came from closer than I was expecting. "Usually girls invite me into their rooms. This is actually the first time I've had to sneak in."

"That's cool. And now you can sneak out." I rolled over so I was facing away from him.

"It's freezing in here," he stated conversationally.

"I'm actually fine."

"Well we can't all be bundled up nice and cozy under a ton of blankets," he said. "On second thought…"

My eyes widened in a mixture of exasperation and surprise as he lifted the covers and crawled under. He put his freezing cold feet on my calves and I slid away from him. "What are you doing?"

I could hear the smile in his voice, "Warming up."

"Go warm up in your own room."

"It's cold in there."

"It's cold in here too."

"But _your_ bed's warm. If you want to go warm mine up, I'll move," he suggested. "By the way, are you still wearing my pants?"

"Yes…"

The bed shook as he laughed. "Isn't this a fun situation? You're in my pants and I'm in your bed."'

"Jace?" I asked.

"Yes?"

"Get out."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Why?"

"Because I never got to finish talking to you."

I waited patiently for him to go on. I was acutely aware of him lying next to me, less than a foot away. We were silent for a peaceful eternity and I noticed the atmosphere of the room had changed. It didn't matter if we spoke or not, nothing really mattered. We just were. Two people whose only purpose was to exist forever in that small moment. The knot of fear in my stomach I hadn't even realized I had loosened.

"I just wanted to know," Jace began, his voice slightly hoarse, "if you're alright."

I rolled over to face him, careful to keep the space of six inches or so between us. I could just make out his face. His eyes were dark and completely unguarded. I should have been honest with him then. Told him everything. Told him that I didn't belong, that by some sort of freak accident or something I had ended up in his world, that he was meant for Clary. I planned out the words I would use even, to tell him the truth. But when I tried to speak all that came out was, "I'm fine."

In a flurry of motion, he was up and across the room, switching on the lights. I sat up, confused, wincing as my eyes adjusted. When I could see again I saw him standing in the middle of my room, posed like some sort of body guard and his face was livid. His feet were shoulder width apart and his arms were crossed, a confrontational pose.

"You're a terrible liar."

"Since when have you cared?" I demanded.

"Since I met you."

I raised my chin in defiance. "You don't know me."

Jace shook his head slowly. "Does anyone know you, Jaci?"

Cautiously, I asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Do any one of us really know any of the others?" he asked, turning into a philosopher.

"I know my sister," I said quietly. And I did. And then I knew why she was treating me the way she had been. And it was my fault. I looked at the boy standing before me. Within his soldiers stance was something _too _rigid, someone trying _too _hard to be strong. Someone who had been broken. Someone who I was not meant to have. "Jace, you should go."

He furrowed his brow. "Why?"

I drew up my legs and hugged my knees, needing some extra support. "Because this is not right. You shouldn't be here, you should be with Alec or Isabelle or Hodge or asleep. Anywhere else, just not here," I paused slightly and I wondered if he noticed, "with me."

"Jaci, I-"

"Just go away," I pleaded softly, choking over the words. "Please."

He shut the lights off on his way out, leaving me alone in the darkness with my silent tears.

* * *

The next morning when I woke up the skin around my eyes felt tight. I rubbed at them, stabbing myself in the eyeball with one of my ridiculous eyelashes. I grumbled in irritation and clambered out of the bed and made my way to the bathroom. I didn't want to see my reflection so I washed my face quickly and went to dig my brush out of my bag.

I swear I'd thrown the thing just on top but it was nowhere to be found. My fingers scraped the material at the bottom, still not finding the brush. In one last attempt, I reached to the far corner of the bag, finding something boxy and pulling it out.

I stared at what I held in my hands.

No.

Not possible.

What?

I'd recognize that metallic embossing anywhere.

But it couldn't be here.

I tossed it aside and began to search frantically through the rest of the contents of my bag, tossing my brush clear when I found it. There, at the bottom where the two that completed the set of the other. In a state almost like terror, I carried the two books over to where the third lay. As much as I stared, they wouldn't go away.

Yup, they were real. I even flipped through them, almost expecting them to be blank but they weren't. Every single word was there.

The Mortal Instruments series. In my hands. In my room. In the New York Institute. Um crap.

If _anyone _besides me found these… I shuddered. I'd be accused of being some sort of witch or maybe even a demon. I did come from what would probably be considered a different dimension. Oh God. They'd kill me if they found these. I set them down in order on my bed and went and retrieved my brush. Quickly, I got dressed for the day, grey skinny jeans and a white screen-print shirt with a multi color scooter across the front. I grabbed City of Bones and pulled it into my lap, flipping through the pages, trying to find what point in the story I was at.

While I searched, my hair kept falling in my face and I kept futilely attempting to tuck it behind my ear. After maybe the tenth failed attempt, I pulled my hair back in a ponytail and found a couple bobby pins for my bangs and returned to the book. Soon enough, I found it. I was about half-way through chapter ten, City of Bones, and Jace and Clary were going to the bone city soon.

I jumped guiltily as someone knocked on the door. Hurriedly, I stashed the books back in my bag and went to the door. Clary was standing in the hall, bouncing on the balls of her feet nervously.

"What's up?" I asked.

"One of the Silent Brothers was here…" she began, trailing off.

"He couldn't get through the block?" I guessed, knowing it was true.

She bit her lip. "We're going to the Bone City. Jaci, come with?"

I was shocked. She rarely asked me to go places, especially when she was afraid of them. "Yeah, I'll go."

Clary closed her eyes briefly as though in prayer. "Thank you."

I would have ruffled her hair but it was in a pony tail. "No problem, Clary."

She returned my smile.

"Hey, Clary?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

She looked at me confused. "For what?"

I smiled at her. "You're too good."

Jace was waiting just outside the Institute. He nodded towards us stiffly as way of greeting.

"I don't see why we have to leave separately from Brother Jeremiah," Clary complained, pulling at her shirt which was sticking to her from the humidity. "What, is he embarrassed to be seen with Shadowhunters or something?"

Oh, bless her. She considered both of us to be Shadowhunters.

"The Brotherhood _are _Shadowhunters," Jace pointed out coolly.

"Shouldn't that be _is_?" I asked. "Or is it are?"

"I think it's are," Clary said. "Did Brother Jeremiah go to get his car?"

Jace's face split into a slightly forced looking grin. "Something like that."

Clary sighed. "I'd feel a lot better about this if Hodge had come with us."

"What," Jace joked, "we're not protection enough for you?"

"It's not protection I need right now – it's someone who can help me think. Oh – Simon!"

"No, I'm Jace," Jace said. "Simon is the weaselly little one with the bad haircut and dismal fashion sense."

"Shut up," Clary and I both said. I saw Jace glance at me quickly.

"I meant to call before I went to sleep. See if he got home okay," she explained.

Jace sighed heavily. "With everything that's going on, you're worried about Weasel Face?"

"He does not look like a weasel," I interjected.

"You may be right," Jace said, speaking directly to me for the first time that morning. "I've met an attractive weasel or two in my time. He looks more like a rat."

"_You _look more like a rat," I huffed.

Clary considered Jace, trying to see the rat-like aspects. He had none, of course.

"Your face looks more like a rat," Jace spat back.

"Are we _five_?" Clary demanded.

"Yes," we chorused.

"Don't worry about the mundane," Jace said dismissively. "He's probably at home lying in a puddle of his own drool. Just wait 'til Isabelle gets bored with him and you have to pick up the pieces."

"Ew, drool," I muttered.

"Is Isabelle likely to get bored with him?" Clary asked.

"Yes."

Poor Simon. He was a nice kid, like a nerdy younger brother and Jace treated him terribly.

"She gets bored easily, besides, he's not very entertaining. Clary… Clary?" Jace asked.

Clary blinked and stared at him, apparently she had not been paying any attention. "What?"

"I wish you'd stop desperately trying to get my attention like this," he said. "It's become embarrassing."

"Sarcasm is the last refuge of the imaginatively bankrupt," she said.

"Then we're _all _creatively doomed," I said.

Jace ignored me. "I can't help it. I use my rapier wit to hide my inner pain."

"Your pain will be outer soon if you don't get out of the traffic. Are you _trying _to get run over by a cab?" Clary demanded.

"Don't be ridiculous. We could never get a cab that easily in this neighborhood."

"And quite honestly, Clary, do you really think a cab would stop for him anyways?"

"Thanks, Catori."

I stared at him quizzically as a large carriage pulled up to the curb. The massive smoke grey horses pawed the air and tossed their heads.

"What the…?" I murmured, staring up at the monstrosity.

"Get in," Jace ordered, pushing Clary in and then climbing up himself. He hesitated awkwardly as though he was going to help me up, but instead moved out of my way. The carriage began to move before I had the door shut and with a lurch I landed nearly in Jace's lap.

"Sorry." I slid to the opposite end of the upholstered bench.

"This is so weird," Clary murmured.

"Just relax. Enjoy that new-carriage smell," Jace suggested and rested his head against the seat, closing his eyes. I turned my attention to the window and stared out. If they wanted to talk to me, they could always yell my name and get my attention. Until then I would pretend I was not there. Jace and Clary talked idly and eventually they came to music. I decided to rejoin the conversation, I like music.

"I suppose you don't have much time for enjoying music," Clary was saying, "in your line of work."

"Maybe the occasional wailing chorus of the damned," Jace said with a shrug.

"But you were playing the piano yesterday at the Institute," Clary pointed out. "So you must-" The carriage lurched drastically and cut Clary off.

"I was just messing around," Jace addressed the window. "My father insisted I learn to play an instrument."

"Insisted?" I asked. "Sounds strict."

"Not at all," Jace said sharply, turning his golden eyes on me. "He indulged me. He taught me everything – weapons training, demonology, arcane lore, ancient languages. He gave me anything I wanted. Horses, weapons books, even a hunting falcon."

"When you were little?" I asked.

He nodded as though he saw nothing wrong with it.

"Why didn't you mention to Hodge that you knew the men that Luke was talking to?" Clary asked. "That they were the ones who killed your dad?"

"Because if I did, he'd know I wanted to kill Valentine myself. And he'd never let me try."

"You mean you want to kill him for revenge?"

"For justice," Jace said. "I never knew who killed my father. Now I do. This is my chance to make it right."

"Cain," I said quietly. Jace avoided my gaze.

We rode in silent, Clary and I studying windows and Jace studying his hands.

"I was ten," he said suddenly, mechanically. "We lived in a manor house, out in the country. My father always said it was safer away from people. I heard them coming up the drive and went to tell him. He told me to hide, so I hid. Under the stairs. I saw those men come in. They had others with them. Not men. Forsaken. They overpowered my father and cut his throat. The blood ran across the floor. It soaked my shoes. I didn't move."

He gave an entirely new meaning to "scarred for life".

"I'm so sorry, Jace," Clary said in a small voice.

"I don't understand why mundane always apologize for things that aren't their fault."

"She's not apologizing," I said.

"It's a way of – empathizing. Of saying that I'm sorry you're unhappy."

"I'm not unhappy," he stated with an odd lack of emotion. "Only people with no purpose are unhappy. I've got a purpose."

"That doesn't mean you're happy either," I pointed out.

"What's your purpose?" Clary asked. "Killing demons, or getting revenge for your father's death?"

"Both."

"Would your father really want you to kill those men? Just for revenge?"

"A Shadowhunter who kills another of his brothers is worse than a demon and should be put down like one."

"But are all demons evil?" Clary asked. "I mean, if all vampires aren't evil, and all werewolves aren't evil, maybe-"

Jace looked ready to rip Clary's throat out. "It's not the same thing at all. Vampires, werewolves, even warlocks, they're part-human. Part of this world, born in it. They belong here. But demons come from other worlds. They're interdimensional parasites. They come to a world and use it up. They can't build, just destroy – they can't make, only use. They drain a place to ashes and when it's dead, they move on to the next one. It's life they want – not just your life or mine, but all the life of this world, its rivers and cities, its oceans, its everything. And the only thing that stands between them and them and all of _this-_" he indicated the entirety of the world with a wave of his hand, "is the Nephilim."

"And they're all – dead worlds? Used up?" Clary asked softly. "That seems so sad."

"They're not all dead," I said without thinking, remembering being a little girl growing up a few hours from Chicago where the only demons were people. A strange stab of longing.

Jace raised an eyebrow at me. "You're right. There are probably other living worlds like ours. But only demons can travel between them. Because they're mostly noncorporeal, partly, but nobody knows exactly why. Plenty of warlocks have tried it, and it's never worked. Nothing from Earth can pass through the wardings between worlds. If we could, we might be able to block them from coming here, but nobody's even been able to figure out how to do that. In fact, more and more of them are coming through. There used to be only small demon invasions into this world, easily contained. But even in my lifetime more and more of them have spilled in through the wardings. The Clave is always having to dispatch Shadowhunters, and a lot of times they don't come back."

Only demons can travel between words? I wondered. I knew I was not a demon, and I definitely was not on my way to Florida. Weird that I could remember factual details about that but the images of my parents' and brothers' faces were blurred and confusing.

"But if you had the Mortal Cup, you could make more, right? More demon hunters?" Clary asked.

"Sure. But we haven't had the Cup for years now, and a lot of us die young. So our numbers slowly dwindle."

"Aren't you uh…" Clary mulled around for the right word while Jace and I just waited for her to spit it out, "reproducing?"

The carriage turned suddenly and I clung to the side of the seat. Clary was thrown against Jace who held her carefully away from himself.

"Sure. We love reproducing," he said. "It's one of our favorite things."

Clary pulled herself away from him and went back to her seat silently.

"We're here," Jace announced. A glance out the window revealed we were at the New York City Marble Cemetery.

I gulped loudly, and painfully.

"But they stopped burying people in Manhattan a century ago because they ran out of room – didn't they?" Clary asked.

"The Bone City has been here longer than that."

We came to a halt and I felt a dull panic building. I was having bad assumptions about the Bone City.

"You don't get a choice, do you? About being a Shadowhunter. You can't just opt out," Clary said.

"No." Jace swung the door open. "But if I had a choice, this is still what I'd choose."

"Why?"

"Because, it's what I'm good at." And with that he leaped out of the carriage. Clary slid down after him. With a deep breath, telling myself I was being ridiculous, I followed them.

When I'd landed, I got my first full view of Brother Jeremiah. He was tall and silent in his parchment colored robes and I found myself wishing desperately that he would not remove his hood.

_Come_. The thought was in my head, but it was not mine. The Silent Brother glided away from us and we followed. Clary kept looking at the marble walls, reading the grave markers. I kept my eyes on Jace's back ahead of me. We stopped suddenly and Clary ran smack into me and shrieked.

"Don't screech like that," Jace scolded. "You'll wake the dead."

"Why are we stopping?" Clary asked. I pointed to Brother Jeremiah who had come to a stop in front of a statue of an angel holding a jeweled cup.

"Is that meant to be the mortal cup?" she asked.

"And that's the motto of the Nephilim – the Shadowhunters – there on the base."

"What does it mean?" Clary asked.

Jace grinned, meaning his answer wasn't going to be worth a thing. "It means 'Shadowhunters: Looking Better in Black Than the Widows of our Enimies Since 1234.'"

_It means, the descent into Hell is easy_.

I shuddered at the thought that was not mine.

"Nice and cheery," Clary mumbled.

"It's the Brothers' little joke, having that here," Jace explained. "You'll see."

If that meant what I thought it did… I groaned.

Brother Jeremiah drew a stele out of his robe and traced a rune on the statue's base. A black hole opened in the ground at the Brother's feet. I took a step away from it but I still saw the stairs leading downward and the evenly spaced torches. I felt weak.

Jace took the stairs with little to no hesitation. Clary and I hung back.

_Do not fear. It would take more than a human cry to wake these dead,_ Jeremiah said.

"Not what I'm worried about," I mumbled and followed Clary down to where Jace waited holding one of the torches. He moved around Clary to get to me.

"You all right?"

I shook my head briefly. "I have two legitimate fears. One is being unable to breathe and the other is extremely small, dark spaces. Both of those come into play for being buried alive."

He slipped his hand into mine, taking me by surprise and bringing up the fact that my hands were startlingly cold.

"You'll get through this, I promise. Clary," he called. Clary whirled to face him and he handed her the torch. "Hold this."

She took it silently and he brought out his stele and turned my arm to expose the paler skin on the inside. He traced a rune there that stung, but comforted me. "It's for strength," he said and took the torch back from Clary. I felt better, but I was glad when he didn't let go of my hand.

"No need to stand on ceremony, Brother Jeremiah," Jace said. "Lead on. We'll be right behind you."

I stayed close to Jace like some small child, ignoring the sights of the Silent City and concentrating on breathing evenly. Jace offered guide like information to Clary and Brother Jeremiah would offer his thoughts occasionally but my mind shut them both out and dedicated itself to basic functions for survival. Walk and breathe. Walk and breathe. I clutched Jace's hand tighter when we came to another descending staircase.

"It's alright Jaci, I promise," he whispered in my ear.

_Nothing will harm you here. These walls will not fall._

"'Kay…" I said.

"We're going to the second level, where the archives and the council rooms are," Jace explained.

"Where are the living quarters?" Clary asked. "Where do the Brothers sleep?"

_Sleep?_

Jace laughed. "You had to ask."

Brother Jeremiah led us down the stairs and through a tunnel which widened out into a large room. The entire thing reminded me of polished bone and a silver sword hung on the far wall behind a raised table where a row of Silent Brothers sat.

Clary glanced at Jace and me but I was completely lost. With slow, deliberate steps she walked to stand on a large square of black marble with a design of silver stars.

"All right," Clary said. "Now what?"

As one, the Brothers reached up and removed their hoods. I cringed at their stitched shut mouths and missing eyes.

"What do we do?" I asked Jace softly.

He squeezed my hand. "We watch and wonder what's going on."

"Stop," Clary said. From where I was I could see a light shine of sweat on her forehead. "You can go inside my head, but only when I'm ready."

There was silence while they must have spoken to Clary because she answered.

"You want to know what's in my mind, just like I do," she said. "That doesn't mean you can't be careful about it."

I watched my little sister, facing the most powerful Shadowhunters, steel herself up for what was coming. "Go ahead."

Then Jace and I watched and waited. Clary stood there with her eyes shut, swaying slightly. I tensed when a pained look came across her face but Jace held me back. He shot me a look that had only one meaning, _don't make a sound_. Then, after a few more minutes, Clary fell. Jace put a restraining arm around my waist. Clary looked over at us before turning back to the Silent Brothers.

They seemed to be speaking to her again and Clary climbed to her feet. "But I don't know who put it there. If I knew that, I wouldn't have come here."

More silence.

"Magnus Bane? But – that's not even a name!" she cried.

Then the Brothers began filing out and Jace released me and I rushed to my sister.

"Are you okay?" I asked. "You hit your arm when you fell." I examined the injury with Jace peering over my shoulder.

"Ouch! It's fine," she said, trying to pull away.

"You bled on the Speaking Stars," Jace pointed out. "I bet there's a law somewhere about that."

"Whatever. I don't care right now, can't you draw an _iratze_ for her?" I demanded.

He glanced at me before pulling out his stele and drawing the rune over Clary's injury. I watched the split skin reunite itself.

"There," he said, pleased with himself.

"Thanks," she said.

"Brother Jeremiah," Jace said, "you've been very quiet all this time. Surely you have some thoughts you'd like to share?"

_I am charged with leading you from the Silent City, and that is all._

"We could always show ourselves out," Jace suggested. "I'm sure I remember the way-"

_The marvels of the Silent City are not for the eyes of the uninitiated. This way._ Silently he turned and glided away.

With each step towards above ground I became more and more relaxed until I was actually happy to be in a graveyard.

"It's going to rain," Jace commented.

I detached my hand from his and stared up at the grey sky. "I love rain."

"You do?"

I nodded. "If you can feel the rain, you're not buried alive."

Clary gave me a tiny smile. "So are we taking a carriage back to the Institute?"

Jace glanced at brother Jeremiah and grinned.

"No way. I hate those things Let's hail a cab. Who knows," he added, looking at me. "It might start raining while we wait."

* * *

**So this chapter and the last one (Voldemort is not Mr Sexy) are technically in the book one chapter. Can you say epically long? Jeez. **

**Reviews, reviews, reviews, reviews, reviews  
There's nothing you can write that can't be written  
It's easy.  
All you need is reviews, all you need is reviews  
Reviews are all you need**

**Yay for a terrible Beatles knock-off! **


	14. I Know What You Did on Madison Avenue

**Keeping this short: I don't own the Mortal Instruments and all that jazz. **

* * *

The driver took a hard left, throwing Clary against me and me against Jace. I hate sitting in the middle.

"Why are we taking Broadway, anyway?" Clary asked, struggling to get back her former posture.

"I'm starving and there's nothing at home except leftover Chinese and pizza."

"Cold pizza is a great breakfast food," I pointed out thoughtfully.

Jace made a face and fished his phone out of his pocket and held down a number on speed dial. I could just barely hear a disgruntled voice answer on the other end. "Alec! Wake up!" he shouted.

"I bet he appreciates that," I muttered to Clary. She widened her eyes in agreement.

"Met us at Taki's. Breakfast. Yeah, you heard me. Breakfast. What? It's only a few blocks away. Get going." He hung up without saying goodbye. How rude. "Stop! Right here!"

The driver pulled over quickly and Jace handed him some cash before scrambling out of the cab like it was on fire. Clary and I followed a bit more calmly.

"Welcome to the greatest restaurant in New York," Jace announced.

I stared blankly at the depressed looking building… Maybe if I turned my head to the side… Nope. Still looked like a dump. But from that angle the flickering neon sign was straight. Two men stood on either side of the doorway, like tired security guards.

"It looks like a prison," stated Clary.

"But in prison could you order a spaghetti _fra diavolo_ that makes you want to kiss your fingers? I don't _think_ so."

"So spaghetti is breakfast food, but pizza isn't?" I asked.

"I don't want spaghetti," Clary said. "I want to know what a Magnus Bane is."

Jace laughed. "It's not a what, it's a who. It's a name."

"Do you know who he _is_?"

"He's a warlock," Jace said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Only a warlock could have put a block in your mind like that. Or maybe one of the Silent Brothers, but clearly it wasn't them."

"Is he a warlock you've _heard of_?" Clary demanded, growing tired of Jace. I couldn't help but smile at the picture. Jace, standing there looking both calm and deadly being yelled at by tiny Clary who had her fists clenched as though she was going to hit him.

"The name does sound familiar-"

"Hey!" Alec called, jogging up the sidewalk towards us. His hair was messy but it looked alright on him. If he just developed some confidence, I was certain Alec could pull anything off he wanted to. Not that he really seemed to care about clothing… "Izzy's on her way," he said. "She's bringing the mundane."

"Simon?" I asked.

"Where did he come from?" Jace asked.

"He showed up first thing this morning. Couldn't stay away from Izzy, I guess. Pathetic," Alec said almost happily. "Anyway, are we going in or what? I'm starving."

"Me too. I could really go for some fried mouse tails," Jace said.

Clary balked. "Some what?"

"Relax," he said. "It's just a diner."

I glanced up at the building. "Doesn't look like much of a diner."

"Looks can be deceiving," Jace commented.

At the door, one of the security-like guys stopped us. I stared shamelessly at his red skin with honest curiosity. Beside me, Clary stiffened, on edge. The man nodded and allowed us to pass.

"Jace," Clary hissed as soon as we were through the door. "Who _was _that?"

"You mean Clancy?" he asked, looking around the restaurant. It took me by surprise that the interior was bright and cozy, not at all what I'd been expecting. I saw the waitress wave at Jace and saw him smile slightly in response. "Clancy keeps out undesireables." He then led us to a booth.

"He's a _demon_," Clary hissed again.

A few people turned to look at her and I felt an urge to walk faster and distance myself from Clary.

"Seriously Clary, do you think we'd be eating somewhere with demon security?" I said quietly.

"He's an ifrit," Jace said as he slid into a booth. Clary attempted to sit beside him, but Alec beat her to it. Instead she had to settle for the open spot next to me, across from Alec. "They're warlocks with no magic. Half demons who can't cast spells for whatever reason."

"Poor bastards," Alec said and picked up a menu. I leaned over Clary's shoulder to read hers seeing as there were only two at the table. I wrinkled my nose at the different platters of raw meats and different types of blood.

"Who eats whole raw fish?" Clary asked.

"Kelpies," answered Alec. "Selkies. Maybe the occasional nixie."

"Don't order any of the faerie food," Jace warned. "It tends to make humans a little crazy. One minute you're munching a faerie plum, the next minute you're running naked down Madison Avenue with antlers on your head. Not, that this has ever happened to me."

My eyes widened and I stared at him. "That was _you_?"

I was rewarded with seeing him turn a delicate pink and splutter over his words. Alec laughed at his reaction.

"I'm just kidding," I said. And then, "Or am I?" Alec stifled another laugh. "You decide."

Still smiling, Alec launched into some story about people I'd never heard of and words I didn't know the meanings of. I attempted to pay attention, but it was obvious Alec only cared if Jace was listening. And he wasn't. I shot the blonde boy a kick under the table. Jace glanced up at me and I nodded discretely towards Alec.

Instead Jace looked at the waitress. "Are we ever going to get any coffee?"

Alec stopped, midsentence looking like a little kid who had just dropped their snow cone.

"What's all the raw meat for?" Clary asked, holding up the menu.

"Werewolves," Jace answered, returning his attention to his menu. "Though I don't mind a bloody steak myself every once in a while. Human food is on the back."

Clary flipped the menu over and I leaned in closer to read it all.

"Oo, hot chocolate," I said.

"They have _smoothies_ here?" Clary asked as though smoothies were a very rare and unusual thing.

"There's this apricot-plum smoothie with wildflower honey that's simply divine," Isabelle said, appearing at the booth with Simone just behind her. "Shove over." Clary smushed up to me to make room Isabelle, Simon had to sit next to Alec (neither one of them looked happy about the situation). "You should have one," Isabelle said to me.

"Smoothies? For breakfast?" I asked.

She nodded seriously. "They're delicious. So how did it go in the Bone City? Did you find out what's in Clary's head?"

"Yeah," Jace said with a snide smile. "Nothing."

I glared at him. "What he means is they couldn't remove the block but we did get a name. Magnus-"

Someone kicked me in the shin. "Ouch!"

"Shut _up_," Alec hissed.

"You kicked me!"

"What's your problem, Alec?" Jace asked.

"This place is full of Downworlders. You know that. I think you should try to keep the details of our investigation secret."

"_Investigation_?" Isabelle asked, incredulously. "Now we're detectives? Maybe we should all have code names."

"Good idea," Jace agreed. "I shall be Baron Hotschaft Von Hugenstein."

I moved me leg experimentally. Alec could kick. "I'm gonna have a bruise," I said finally.

"Sorry," Alec apologized into his water.

"It's alright. It's not like I've never bruised my shin before."

"You have?" Jace asked. "How?"

"Oh wouldn't you like to know," I said evasively.

Clary sighed in exasperation. "She plays basketball."

The waitress arrived to take our order. She was pretty with long, shiny blonde hair. But her eyes were solidly blue. I wondered briefly how the world looked to her. "Know what you're having?" she asked.

Jace tossed his menu into the middle of the table, not looking at the waitress. "The usual."

"Me too," Alec added.

"Two apricot-plum smoothies," Isabelle said. "Jaci, you want anything else?"

"What?" Isabelle had ordered for me? Weird. "No, that's fine."

"I'll just have coffee," Simon said.

Clary glanced at the menu one last time. "I'll have a large coffee and coconut pancakes."

The waitress promised our food would be ready soon and walked away.

"Is she an ifrit too?" asked Clary.

"Kaelie? No. Part-fey I think," Jace said.

"She's got nixie eyes," Isabelle pointed out.

"You really don't know what she is?" Simon asked.

"I respect her privacy," Jace said. "Do you ask every single person you meet their ethnicity?"

"Yes, I do. It leads to simulating conversation," Simon answered.

Jace shook his head. "I doubt anyone finds conversation with you stimulating."

I noticed Clary was staring at something and looked to see it was the cook with furry ears poking out of holes cut in his hat. He glanced up and made eye contact with me, flashing me a smile of sharp teeth.

"What's the cook?" I asked. "Do you think?"

Isabelle considered him. "I'm not sure… but I like his ears."

Kaelie reappeared with our food then and distributed it. I cautiously took a sip of my smoothie. It was fantastic.

"Told you," Isabelle said, seeing my expression.

"I told you it was the greatest restaurant in Manhattan," Jace said, popping a couple fries in his mouth.

"Really? French fries for breakfast? And you turned down cold pizza." I shook my head at the sadness of the situation.

Jace wriggled grease-covered fingers in my face. "You know you're jealous."

I batted his hand away. "Someday those things will give you…" I trailed off remembering Simon. His dad had died from a heart attack. "Heartburn," I finished lamely.

Jace grinned. "Bring it on."

"I don't get it," Clary said. "The whole Downworlder thing. You don't hunt them because they aren't exactly demons, but they're not exactly people either. Vampires kill, they drink blood-"

"Only rogue vampires drink human blood from living people. And those, we're allowed to kill," Alec interrupted, wiping his mouth on a napkin.

"And werewolves are what? Just overgrown puppies?"

"They kill demons," Isabelle said, sipping on her straw. "So if they don't bother us, we don't bother them."

"So they're good enough to let live, good enough to make your food for you – but not really good enough?" Clary asked. "I mean, not as good as people."

"Different from people," Jace corrected.

"Better than mundanes?" Simon asked his coffee dully.

"No," Isabelle said. "You could turn a mundane into a Shadowhunter. I mean, we came from mundanes. But you could never turn a Downworlder into one of the Clave. They can't withstand the runes."

"So they're weak?" Clary asked loudly.

"I wouldn't say that," Jace warned. "At least not with a peri, a djinn, an ifrit, and God knows what else listening in. But it's not one way. We may not always like Downworlders, but they don't always like us, either. A few hundred years of Accords can't wipe out a thousand years of hostility."

Isabelle stirred her smoothie idly. "I'm sure she doesn't know what the Accords are, Jace."

"She does," I said. "Remember? You were there when Hodge explained it to her."

"I don't," Simon said.

"You were there too, though," Isabelle pointed out.

"Physically," Alec said.

"Nobody cares what you know," Jace said to Simon. "I enjoy the company of certain Downworlders at certain times and places but we don't really get invited to the same parties."

Like the cool kids at school who use people but can't be seen around with them.

"Wait," Isabelle said, turning very alert. "What did you say that name was?" she demanded of me. "The name in Clary's head."

"She didn't," Jace drawled. "At least, she didn't finish it."

"It's Magnus Bane," I said.

Jace grinned at Alec. "Rhymes with 'overcareful pain in the ass.'"

"Fucking asshole," Alec muttered, vehemently biting some fries.

"It can't be – but I'm almost totally sure-" Isabelle muttered as she dug through her purse. I didn't even attempt to figure out her train of thought from her comment. Victoriously, she pulled a folded blue paper from her purse. "Look at _this_."

Alec took the paper and shrugged before handing it to Jace. "It's a party invitation. For somewhere in Brooklyn. I hate Brooklyn."

"Don't be such a snob." Jace smoothed out the paper and held it so I could see it as well.

"Wow," I murmured.

"Where did you get this, Izzy?" Jace asked.

"From that kelpie in Pandemonium. He said it would be awesome. He had a whole stack of them."

"What is it?" Clary demanded. "Are you going to show the rest of us, or not?"

Jace turned the invitation around so Clary and Simon could read it.

"Magnus," Simon said. "Magnus like Magnus Bane?"

"I doubt there are that many warlocks named Magnus in the Tristate Area," Jace said dryly.

Alec made a face. "Does that mean we have to go to the party?"

"We don't _have _to do anything." Jace studied the invitation closer. "But according to this, Magnus Bane is the High Warlock of Brooklyn and I, for one, am a little curious as to what the High Warlock of Brooklyn's name is doing inside Clary's head."

Isabelle clapped her hands. "I _love _parties!"

* * *

We had until midnight, when the party started. As soon as we were back to the Institute, Jace and Alec vanished off to the weapons room and Isabelle and Simon left to go for a walk in Central Park. Clary half looked like she wanted to go but when Simon invited her she angrily declined. I also politely backed out. They were going to see the faerie circles, which I'd seen when I was little and accused of being crazy.

"I'm going to take a nap," Clary announced to me once Isabelle and Simon had left.

"Alright. Hey," I said, suddenly remembering. "Do you have your charger? My phone's almost dead and my charger was at home."

"Um… I think so? I'll have to check."

Together we walked to her room, wrapped in silence. I figured Clary was probably lost in thought; she already had a lot to process from the day. She opened her door for me. Her room was just like the one I was in, though it didn't look quite as inhabited as mine. Clary went to her bag and dug out her charger which she tossed to me.

"Thanks," I said.

"No problem. You can keep it, my phone got smashed."

I wondered briefly if she said that to make me feel guilty about causing her to drop her phone but shook it off. "Get some sleep, Clary."

"What are you going to do?" Clary asked, her voice letting the voice of a little girl through.

"I think I'm going to go up to the greenhouse for a bit," I said, hand on the door. "It's peaceful up there."

I stopped at my room to drop off the charger on my way. Peeta was curled up on my bed like usual so I left the door open for him if he wanted to get out.

The greenhouse was just as fresh and new seeming as the first time I'd been there. I wandered through the plants, occasionally breaking off a leaf to play with. It still made me slightly homesick, but I stayed where I was. I wasn't tired enough to sleep yet but I didn't feel like doing anything strenuous.

"Jaelyn?" a voice called. Hodge was standing just on the other side of the plant I had been looking at.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize you were up here," I apologized.

He smiled kindly. "It's alright. The greenhouse is not mine in particular. Is there a specific reason you came here?"

I shook my head. "It's just relaxing."

Hodge nodded in understanding. "I was just going to the library. If you come along, I could make you some tea."

Feeling like it would be rude to refuse, I agreed.

"I've been thinking about your Mark, Jaci," he said while we walked.

"Oh?" was all I could think of to say.

"It seems possible, maybe even probable, that someone had the Mark removed from you."

"I didn't even know that was possible," I admitted.

"Even permanent Marks will begin to fade with time, but I believe something, or someone more correctly, helped yours along."

I thought about that… it made sense. "Maybe it was the same person who put a block on Clary's mind," I suggested.

Hodge thought about that and said nothing else until we reached the library. The door was already open and Clary stood by the desk, holding something in her hands.

"That's Valentine," Hodge said to her, glancing over her shoulder. "When he was seventeen."

Clary jumped drastically, not having heard us enter.

"I'm so sorry," she set down the picture she had been holding, "I didn't mean to pry into your things."

"It's all right, it's a piece of your past after all," Hodge said.

I stepped forward to look at the picture. It showed a group of teens dressed in Shadowhunting gear. I saw Jocelyn immediately. She looked like Clary, I noted. How did I wind up in this family? Valentine must have been the boy next to her.

"Valentine looks… sort of nice," Clary said.

"Nice he wasn't, but he was charming and clever and very persuasive. Do you recognize anyone else?" Hodge asked.

I studied the picture. Clary pointed to an awkward looking boy. "Is that you?"

Hodge nodded. "And…?"

"That's Luke," I said softly.

"Lucian. And here," Hodge pointed to a boy and girl standing close together, both with dark hair. "The Lightwoods," he said. "And there" – he pointed to a tall boy with dark curly hair and a slightly darker complexion with a well-defined jaw-line – "is Michael Wayland."

"He looks familiar…" I muttered.

"He doesn't look anthing like Jace," Clary said.

"Jace resembles his mother," Hodge stated.

"Is this, like, a class photo?" asked Clary.

"Not quite. This is a picture of the Circle, taken in the year it was formed. That's why Valentine, the leader, is in the front, and Luke is on his right side – he was Valentine's second in command."

Clary looked away while I continued to study the photograph. Alec and Isabelle, I decided, took after their mother.

"I still don't understand why our mother would join something like that," Clary said.

"You must understand-"

"You keep saying that," Clary snapped. "I don't see why I must understand anything. You tell me the truth, and I'll either understand it or I won't."

I smiled to myself. She had a very good point.

"As you say," Hodge said. "The Accords have never had the support of the whole Clave. The more venerable families, especially, cling to the old times, when Downworlders were for killing. Not just out of hatred but because it made them feel safer. It is easier to confront a threat as a mass, a group, not individuals who must be evaluated one by one… and most of us knew someone who had been injured or killed by a Downworlder. There is nothing quite like the moral absolutism of the young. It's easy, as a child, to believe in good and evil, in light and dark. Valentine never lost that – neither his destructive idealism nor his passionate loathing of anything he considered 'nonhuman.'"

"But he loved Jocelyn," I stated.

"Yes, he loved your mother. And he loved Idris…"

"What was so great about Idris?" Clary demanded sulkily. For some reason I felt slightly offended by her slight. What? I'd never even been to Idris.

"It was," Hodge began, "I mean it _is, _home – for the Nephilim, where they can be their true selves, a place where there is no need for hiding or glamour. A place blessed by the Angel. You have never seen a city until you have seen Alicante of the glass towers. It is more beautiful than you can imagine."

"Alicante?" I asked. "Like Alicante, Spain?"

"There are many cities with the same name," Hodge said patiently.

"I know, it's just I would've thought that the capital of the Shadowhunter homeland would be something a bit more… _original_."

"Were there ever… dances in the Glass City?" Clary asked thoughtfully.

"Every week," Hodge answered. "I never attended, but your mother did. And Valentine. I was more of a scholar. I spent my days in the library in Alicante. The books you see here are only a fraction of the treasures it holds. I thought perhaps I might join the Brotherhood someday, but after what I did, of course, they would not have me."

"I'm sorry," Clary said. I shuffled my feet awkwardly, wanting to leave.

"Can I have this?" I asked, picking up the picture.

Hodge hesitated slightly. "I would prefer you not show it to Jace. He has enough to contend with, without photos of his dead father turning up."

I nodded and examined it again. Michael Wayland reminded me of someone, but I still couldn't figure out who.

"Clary, did you come to the library to see me, or for some other purpose?" Hodge asked.

"I was wondering if you'd heard from the Clave. About the Cup. And – our mom."

"I got a short reply this morning."

Clary couldn't keep the eagerness out of her voice. "Have they sent people? Shadowhunters?"

Hodge turned away from Clary and walked over to his raven, Hugo. "Yes, they have."

"There is some concern that the Institute is being watched by Valentine. The less he knows, the better. I'm sorry I can't tell you more, Clarissa. I am not much trusted by the Clave, even now. They told me very little. I wish I could help you."

Clary sighed, dejectedly. "You can. I can't sleep. I keep thinking too much. Could you…"

Hodge smiled kindly. "Ah, the unquiet mind. I can give you something for that. Wait here."

I watched him through narrowed eyes as he left the library. Clary and I waited in silence and I studied the floor. On a random note, I noticed Clary was still wearing her shoes. The only other person I'd seen in the Institute (besides Hodge who didn't really count because he was the type of person who always wore shoes) wearing shoes had been Simon. Alec, Isabelle, Jace, and I all either went barefoot or wearing socks. Oh the strange things I notice when I'm bored.

"Why am I waiting?" I asked no one. "Imma go sleep or something. Bye, Clary."

She mumbled a response as I left. Leaving seemed like the best option, to be honest. I really didn't want tea, rude or not.

I paused momentarily in the hall outside my door. I was certain I'd left the door open earlier but now it was shut firmly. Maybe Peeta had…? No. That cat was not big enough to shut a door. Especially the heavy decorative doors of the Institute. With a mental shrug, I shoved the door open.

"Don't panic, it's just me."

"Jace!" I cried. He was lounging across my bed, reading something. My eyes widened drastically as I saw the cover and in an instant I had plucked the book out of his hands.

"Hey!" he protested but I'd already stashed City of Ashes back in my bag. "I was going to read that!"

I heard the future tense and internally sighed in relief. "You don't need to be reading, you should be going to sleep. You look terrible."

"You may be the only person who has ever told me I look terrible," he said. "Usually girls are telling me how stunning I look."

"Well not all girls fall in love with you on sight," I said, sitting down on the bed next to him.

"It's not _love_," he said. The somber tone made me look at him. His head was bowed and he was studying his clasped hands. For a moment he looked defeated. I reached out to touch his shoulder but let my hand drop, not sure really what to do. Part of me wanted to comfort him and another part, the rational part of me, wanted me to make Jace leave. To make him go to Clary, where he should be.

"You called me Catori earlier," I said.

He glanced at me, momentarily confused. "Yes. You told me not to call you Fray."

"It was just weird, is all," I said with a shrug. "The only time anyone uses 'Catori' is when they're yelling at me. You know, the whole middle name thing parents pull when you've messed something up."

He groaned good-naturedly. "You have no idea. When Maryse yells 'Jonothan Christopher' I know it's going to be bad."

"Does she yell at you a lot?" I asked curiously.

Jace shrugged and grinned. "Relatively. I think it's more automatic now."

I nodded in understanding. "Occasionally, Jocelyn would yell 'Jaelyn' at Clary when she was mad."

"Jocelyn and Jaelyn…" Jace mused. "Seems odd that your mom would give you a name that close to hers."

"I'm just glad she didn't name _me _Clarissa," I stated. "I really don't like that name. I was the one who started calling her Clary." I sighed heavily and rubbed at my eyes.

"If you're tired I could tell you a bedtime story," he offered.

I checked to be sure he was serious. No ghost of a smile hovered on his face. "Are you serious?"

"I'm always serious."

"You're a terrible liar."

He smiled at me. "Lie down and close your eyes."

"Are you going to tuck me in, too?" I joked, letting my hair down. I can't sleep with it up, too uncomfortable.

Those golden eyes sparkled. "Maybe. Now lie down."

I did as he said. Jace pulled the blankets up to my chin and gently pushed my bangs off my face, fingers trailing along my cheek. I stared up at him, hardly daring to breathe.

"Once there was a boy," he began. "When the boy was six years old, his father gave him a falcon to train. Falcons are raptors – killing birds, his father told him, the Shadowhunters of the sky.

"The falcon didn't like the boy, and the boy didn't like it, either. Its sharp beak made him nervous, and its bright eyes always seemed to be watching him. It would slash at him with beak and talons when he came near: For weeks his wrists and hands were always bleeding. He didn't know it, but his father had selected a falcon that had lived in the wild for over a year, and thus was nearly impossible to tame. But the boy tried, because his had told him to make the falcon obedient, and he wanted to please his father.

"He stayed with the falcon constantly, keeping it awake by talking to it and even playing music to it, because a tired bird was meant to be easier to tame. He learned the equipment: the jesses, the hood, the brail, the leash that bound the bird to his wrist. He was meant to keep the falcon blind, but he couldn't bring himself to do it – instead he tried to sit where the bird could see him as he touched and stroked its wings, willing it to trust him. He fed it from his hand, and at first it would not eat. Later it ate so savagely that its beak cut the skin of his palm. But the boy was glad, because it was progress, and because he wanted the bird to know him, even if the bird had to consume his blood to make that happen.

"He began to see that the falcon was beautiful, that its slim wings were built for the speed of flight, that it was strong and swift, fierce and gentle. When it dived to the ground, it moved like light. When it learned to circle and come to his wrist, he nearly shouted with delight. Sometimes the bird would hop to his shoulder and put its beak in his hair. He knew his falcon loved him, and when he was certain it was not just tamed but perfectly tamed, he went to his father and showed him what he had done, expecting him to be proud.

"Instead his father took the bird, now tame and trusting, in his hands and broke its neck. 'I told you to make it obedient,' his father said, and dropped the falcon's lifeless body to the ground. 'Instead, you taught it to love you. Falcons are not meant to be loving pets: They are fierce and wild, savage and cruel. This bird was not tamed; it was broken.'

"Later, when his father left him, the boy cried over his pet, until eventually his father sent a servant to take the body of the bird away and bury it. The boy never cried again, and he never forgot what he'd learned: that to love is to destroy, and that to be loved is to be the one destroyed."

There were tears in my eyes as I reached for Jace's hand. He allowed me to pick it up and examine it. Pale scars graced the center of his palm. I traced them with my thumb. "What was the falcon's name?"

"Kynigos. Greek for 'hunter'."

"Do you really believe that?" I asked softly. "About love?"

He didn't answer, but instead stretched out beside me, on top of the blankets. "How about you tell me a story? Maybe why a Shadowhunter girl would be afraid of being buried alive?"

Was there a reason for my fears in this past? Or where they only based from before Peliel? No. There were reasons. I took a deep breath before I began. "There once was a little girl-"

"A Shadowhunter," Jace said.

"Yes, a Shadowhunter girl, but she didn't know it. She believed in evil things because that's what children do, not because she knew they really existed.

"During the day, she was happy. She lived with her mother and her sister in a little apartment. Sometimes, they would go to the park. She loved going to the park. Whenever they went, she would play with the little faeries that lived in the bushes until her mother would scold her for wandering off. The little girl never told her mother about the faeries, she was afraid her mother would yell at her.

"The girl hated night. She didn't like the way the shadows moved across her bedroom floor or the way the wind howled at her window but she never told anyone she was afraid. Instead, she closed her eyes very tightly and went to sleep and dreamt about the faeries at the park.

"One night, closing her eyes didn't keep out the things of the darkness. They pounded at the window and danced across the floor, telling the little girl to come out and play. She ignored them at first, until one shadow slipped through the crack of the window and pulled back her blanket. 'Come play!' it said when it grabbed her wrist with its brittle hands. The little girl did not like the shadow's smile, but she didn't want it to hurt her sister so she went outside where more shadows waited.

"The shadows grabbed her hands and pulled her to the park where the faeries were. They made the little girl dance, and at first she had fun. Later, she was tired and tripped and fell, but the shadows still made her dance. When she could not dance anymore, the shadows chased her, baring the sharp little teeth.

"The little girl fled, terrified but the faster she ran, the faster the shadows ran, biting at her heels. They chased the girl to a pond and then they chased her out into the middle where she had to tread water. The shadows laughed at the little girl struggling until one pushed her under.

"Frightened, she tried to get back to the surface, but she could not find it. She could not breathe and could not see. The shadows flickered around her in the water and laughed. She could hear their laughter.

"The next morning, the little girl woke up in her bed, soaked with pond water and clutching a branch with a single leaf on it. That night, she locked her window and she never went back to the park again."

Jace's eyes were closed and he appeared to be asleep. I closed my eyes and tried to dispel the image of the shadows at the window.

"Which park was it?" Jace asked.

I opened my eyes to see him looking at me. "Central."

"That's where the Seelie Courts are," he commented. "How old were you?"

I curled into a small ball. "I don't know. Not older than six."

His mouth curled up in a wry smile. "Faeries have a cruel sense of humor."

"Sense of humor?" I echoed, my voice uneven.

Jace rested his forehead against mine, noses touching. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. He took both of my hands in his and he moved just the smallest bit until our lips barely touched. My lips curled up in a smile and I deepened the kiss.

* * *

**Not enough Jace/Jaci action, eh? Want more of ^^^^ that? You know what to do . Give my imagination a reason to exist and reviewwww!**


	15. My Sister's a Baby Prostitute

**What is this madness? Another chapter you say? Well isn't that nice? This chapter is kind of full of really short, choppy scenes and not really a ton of Jace/Jaci action that you all seem to be rooting for. But have no fear, I have plans for the future, and not just the near future. I've decided that this little series thingummy is going to be four stories long. Yup, four. The Mortal Instrument series is three. Get excited for the distant future. Who can say what will happen by book the fourth? Oh, that's right. I can.**

**Disclaimer: No escribí los Mortal Instrument libros. Comprende Ud.? Escribo un cuento de ficcion de aficcionada. Oh the results of three years of Spanish...**

* * *

"Did that really just-?" he started, looking at me confused.

I grinned. "Don't lie. You liked it."

Jace's grin matched mine. "I never said I didn't." He yawned then and stretched on his back. "I'm tired."

I tried my hardest not to yawn too. "One kiss tired you out, Wayland?"

He turned his head to look at me and made a kissy face at me. "Want more, come and get it."

I snuggled up to his side and closed my eyes. "I'm tired too."

"That's got to be the first time someone turned down my offer of a kiss," he said in amazement, his words were slurred with sleep.

I could feel myself drifting off. "I should warn you, I kick when I sleep."

"Don't worry, I roll."

"If you crush me…" I never got to finish the thought, I threw one arm over his chest and fell promptly asleep.

* * *

"Jaci…" I ignored the voice and fought to stay asleep. "Come on, Jaci. Wake up, it's already ten."

I opened one eye and glared angrily up at Jace. "Go away." I rolled over so I was facing away from him.

"You have to get dressed for the party," Jace reminded me.

"Urgh." I sat up and ran my hands threw my hair which was miraculously lying correctly and not bulging up in the back. "I don't have anything to wear."

Jace winked at me. "I'm sure Izzy will help you."

I threw my pillow at him. He caught it and threw it back. "Jaelyn Catori," he began.

"Jonathan Christopher," I countered.

"I have something you want," he said suddenly, backing a step away from me. "But you have to come get it."

"Not interested," I said, lying back down.

Jace tsk-ed at me. "You have no idea what you're turning down."

I glanced him over. "Actually, I think I do."

"Jaci, if you do not get up right now I will personally carry you to Isabelle's room," he warned.

I grinned. "Challenge accepted."

He raised his eyebrows and easily scooped me up in his arms. I laughed and wrapped my arms around his neck.

"You really thought that would make me get up?" I asked.

"Um… no." He set me down on my feet, but still held me close. "I'm curious, how does near drowning lead to being afraid of being buried alive?"

My good mood wilted. "It isn't a _direct _correlation…"

Jace laughed. "Who says 'correlation'?"

"I do," I answered. "I'm not exactly afraid of being buried alive… it's more the idea of not being able to breathe and trapped somewhere all enclosed and dark."

"A pond is not all enclosed," he pointed out.

I stepped out of the circle of his arms and walked to the door. "You weren't there."

* * *

Isabelle was waiting for me. She herself was about half ready, wearing a long silver skirt with a matching sequined shirt.

"Sparkly much?" I asked.

She grinned at me. "Glitter is the best."

I regarded her. She looked dazzling, me in glitter? Meh. "I'll take your word for it."

"Ready for your major make-over?" Isabelle asked, selecting a container of sparkly nail polish.

The thought of Izzy making me over made me cringe slightly. "I have rules," I warned.

She made a face. "Fine. What are your 'rules'?"

I sat down on the edge of her messy bed. "First, I will wear your clothes but I get to pick them out. You can veto, but you can't select. Second, make-up is minimum. Nothing crazy. Third, do whatever you want with my hair as long as my bangs stay down."

She sighed and pointed to her closet. "Go look for something. Make sure it fits you right and that it's not too big," she warned.

I had a feeling my idea of "too big" and Isabelle's idea of "too big" were entirely different things.

Her closet was stuffed full of clothes, all styles and all colors. Most of her dresses were long, floor sweeping things that I would trip over if I even attempted to walk in them. I pushed past them and found some extremely short dresses. I moved past them with delicacy.

"The clothes that are too small for me are towards the back," Isabelle called to help.

"'Kay." Skipping everything left in about the middle of the closet, I looked at the clothes that had been shoved to the back and, for the most part, forgotten. I saw a white dress that I liked but then I noticed how sheer it was and put it back. The last article of clothing was draped unceremoniously over a hanger. Out of curiosity, I took it down and carried it out into Isabelle's room. "What's this?"

Isabelle stared at the blue dress I held. "I haven't seen that in ages!"

The dress was short, not as short as some of the other things Izzy had, but still. It was a bright turquoise with black along the hems and a thick black… sash-thing around the middle. "It's cute," I noted.

"Cute?" Isabelle asked. "It's adorable! You _have _to wear it!"

I eyed the little dress doubtfully. "I'm not sure…"

Isabelle turned her pleading eyes on me. "You could at least just try it on, give it a chance. Oh! I have the perfect shoes to go with it!" She fairly danced across the room to her closet where she dug out a pair of high-top Converse that were the exact shade as the dress. "I've never even warn them," she said, tossing me the shoes.

"Um, thanks."

"Hurry and get changed so I can do your hair," Isabelle ordered, shoeing me towards he bathroom. By the time I had changed, Isabelle had finished getting ready. She looked fantastic, of course.

"Nice hair," I commented.

Beads caught the light as she turned to look at me. "Thanks. Oh God." She stared at me making me self-conscious.

"What? Is it too short?" I pulled at the bottom of the dress awkwardly.

Izzy shook her head. "No. It's perfect. Sit. Make-up time."

With a sigh I sat in front of Isabelle's cluttered vanity. She worked quickly, applying eyeliner and mascara. She dusted my eyelids with glitter.

"Does your hair naturally fall like this?" Isabelle asked, playing with my hair.

"Um yeah."

"Then we're gonna leave it down," she said.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Isabelle had managed to make me look angular and sophisticated. She arranged my bangs on the side of my face, just avoiding my eyes and curling up, accenting my cheekbone.

"Cute," she commented.

Blushing, I turned away from the mirror. "Is Clary up yet?"

Isabelle sighed heavily. "Probably not. Let's go."

* * *

"Get _up!_" Isabelle hissed, hovering over the sleeping Clary. She jerked awake and sat up quickly, striking her head against Isabelle's. "Ow! You hit me in the head!"

Clary rubbed her forehead and squinted when Isabelle turned on the lights. "Well, nobody told you to lean over me like that. You practically scared me to death. What do you want, anyway?"

Isabelle gestured dramatically towards the window. "It's almost midnight. We've got to leave for the party, and you're still not dressed."

"I was going to wear this," Clary pointed to her wrinkled outfit. "Is that a problem?"

I laughed softly while Isabelle freaked.

"Is that a problem? Of course it's a problem! No Downworlder would wear those clothes. And it's a party. You'll stick out like a sore thumb if you dress that…" Her nose wrinkled in dainty disgust. "Casually."

"I didn't know we were dressing up," Clary protested. "I don't have party clothes with me."

"I didn't either," I pointed out.

Clary glanced at me, not looking amused. Jeez, no clue what I did, but relax, Ice Queen.

"You'll just have to borrow mine, like Jaci did," Isabelle said.

"Oh no. I mean, I couldn't really." Clary held her hands up in protest. To me, it looked like it could easily be misinterpreted for surrender.

Isabelle grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "I insist."

* * *

"I'd really rather wear my own clothes," Clary insisted again, feebly now. Isabelle had put her in front of a huge mirror and then had gone off to dig through her closet. I was lying on my stomach on her bed, kicking my feet in the air like a little kid. Dresses make me feel extremely small and girly.

"Well, you can't. You look about eight years old, and worse, you look like a mundane," Isabelle called.

Clary glared into the eyes of her reflection. "None of your clothes are going to fit me."

"We'll see about that." I could hear the smirk in Isabelle's voice.

Clary examined Isabelle's room as she stood there. I examined Clary, thinking that if I could, I would draw her as almost a red-haired Alice in Wonderland. Maybe when she was shrunk, staring up at giants. If I could draw, I would capture her slightly annoyed expression. But as it is, I can't draw, so I gave up the idea.

"Nice room," Clary commented.

"Thanks," Isabelle said, appearing from the depths of her closet. "I painted it myself." She threw a piece of black fabric to Clary.

My sister held it up with a frown and I stifled a giggle. "It looks awfully small."

"It's stretchy," Isabelle dismissed. "Now go put it on."

Looking defeated, Clary retreated to the bathroom.

I shook my head sadly. "She should have given you rules."

Isabelle grinned. "It's so much fun without rules though!"

"Fun?"

The grin turned almost evil. "Just you wait."

Clary emerged from the bathroom wearing the itty bitty dress. It was barely long enough to completely cover her butt. I secretly praised myself for giving Izzy rules. I would hate to think what she would have come up with for me on her own.

"You're so lucky to have such a flat chest. I could never wear that without a bra," Isabelle noted.

"It's too short," Clary stated flatly.

"It's not short. It's fine." Isabelle tossed her a pair of boots and fishnet tights. My eyes widened. "Here, you can wear these with it. They'll make you look taller."

"Fishnet?" I demanded. "Hell no."

Isabelle turned to me with a pleading look in her eyes. "Pwease, Jaci? The dress isn't right without them."

"The dress isn't right _with _them!" I argued

"Jaci," Clary said sharply. "It's _fine_."

I had opened my mouth to speak, but closed it with a snap. Well then.

Clary pulled on the tights and boots and I frowned at the effect. She didn't look taller, she looked like a baby prostitute. A baby prostitute with frizzy French braids.

"Your hair," Isabelle sighed. "It needs fixing. Desperately. Sit."

Clary sat in front of the vanity table and squeezed her eyes shut as Isabelle went to work, yanking her hair out of its braids and brushed it out before pinning it up in an elaborate twist. For good measure, I suppose, she smacked Clary in the face with a glitter covered powder puff. Clary glared up at Isabelle.

"Don't look at me," Izzy laughed. "Look at yourself."

She looked good. The hairstyle made her look older and, in my opinion, didn't really fit the image the boots and tights created. It was a strange combination, but if Clary was confident enough, she would pull it off easily.

"Don't get up yet," Isabelle warned. "We're not done." She picked up her eyeliner threateningly and went to work, giving Clary sweeping cat eyes.

"Isabelle, can I ask you something?"

"You just did," I pointed out.

Isabelle paused to grin at me. "Sure."

"Is Alec gay?"

The dark haired girl froze before backing away to sit on the bed. "How did you guess?"

"I-"

I shrugged. I'd sort of always known.

"You absolutely can't tell anyone," Isabelle said to both of us.

"Not even Jace?" Clary asked.

"Especially not Jace!"

"Jace would count as anyone," I pointed out.

"All right," Clary said sullenly. "I guess I didn't realize it was such a big deal."

"It would be to my parents," Isabelle said quietly. "They would disown him and throw him out of the Clave-"

"What, you can't be gay and a Shadowhunter?" Clary demanded. Something we both shared was a strong belief in gay rights.

"There's no official rule about it. But people don't like it. I mean, lease with people our age – I think."

"If their anything like the mundanes of our generation, then no. It's not as big of a deal," I told her.

"But the older generation, no. If it happens, you don't talk about it," she finished.

I made a face. "Homophobes. No me gusta."

"I love my brother," Isabelle continued quietly. "I'd do anything for him, but there's nothing I can do."

"At least he has you," said Clary, apparently feeling the need to add to the awkwardness of the situation. "Do you really think that Jace would… mind?"

"I don't know," Isabelle said coldly. "But it's not my choice to make."

"I guess not," Clary said, turning away and back to the mirror. She gasped. "I look like my mom."

She did. She had Jocelyn's beautiful and sharp features, brought out by Isabelle's skillful make-up application.

"What? Too middle-aged?" Isabelle asked. "Maybe some more glitter-"

Clary held up a hand. "No more glitter. No, it's good. I like it."

"Great." She didn't sound like she really meant it as she got off the bed, many bracelets and anklets clinking. "Let's go."

"I need to stop by my room and grab something," Clary said. "Also – do I need any weapons? Do you? Does Jaci?"

Isabelle grinned. "I've got plenty." She kicked up a leg, displaying her anklets. "These, for instance. The left one is electrum, which is poisonous to demons, and the right one is blessed iron, in case I run across any unfriendly vampires or even faeries – faeries hate iron. They both have strength runes carved into them, so I can pack a hell of a kick."

"Demon hunting and fashion," Clary commented. "I never would have thought they went together."

Isabelle laughed. "You'd be surprised. Those shoes Jaci's wearing?"

I glanced down at the seemingly harmless blue high tops.

"She could run for hours in those things."

Well, if I had to run to save my life at some part during the evening, apparently I'd be just fine.

* * *

Jace, Alec, and Simon were waiting in the entryway, all in black. Simon looked geeky and awkward, in the best possible way, while Alec looked almost mopey and Jace looked dangerous.

"What _is _that?" Simon demanded, seeing Clary. "That you're wearing, I mean."

Clary glanced at herself. She'd grabbed a jacket from her room that covered the dress well enough and had for some reason unbeknownst to me, had grabbed her backpack.

"It's so short," he protested.

Jace stepped forward, eyes on me. "I like that dress," he stated. "It needs a little something extra, though."

"Do not ruin what I've created," Isabelle threatened darkly.

Jace ran his eyes over me again. "Created? I thought Jaci looked like this naturally." He pulled a seraph blade out of his jacket and pressed it into my hand.

The fingers that curled around the blade were only shaking slightly. "Thanks. I don't really know where I'm going to put this but, thanks."

Isabelle considered my dress. "You could stick it down the back of your dress, or I could give you a thigh sheath to put it in."

I glanced down. "I don't think there's enough fabric to cover a thigh sheath," Jace pointed out.

"True," I admitted, twirling the seraph blade nervously in my hands.

"Um, do I need any weapons?" Clary asked, interrupting.

Jace lazily turned his eyes on her before drawing out a dagger. "Try not to hurt yourself with this."

She silently took the blade and put it into an outside pocket of her backpack.

"And this," Jace said, slipping his hand over mine to take the seraph blade, "can go here." He slipped the blade into the thick black sash, hands resting on my hip. We stood there for a second too long, me barely daring to breathe. "All right," Jace said almost breathlessly. "Let's go."

* * *

**Guess what! It's party time! Eff yeah! Any predictions for this mad rave at Magnus's? Nah, just kidding. It's not a rave.**


	16. Dancing Dirty

**Apologizing now for the length. The next chapter is longer, pinky promise. I was going to put something clever and thoughtful here but I forgot it... Fail.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own TMI. Jaci, however, is my creation. Don't steal her, I'd miss her lots. And cry. Lots.**

* * *

The invitation's directions took us to an industrial-turned-artsy neighborhood. Tall buildings loomed on either side of the street, giving the entire area an almost fenced in feel. Isabelle and Simon were leading our little group by use of the Sensor. Alec walked just behind them with Jace. I lagged at the way back, staying behind Clary who did not seem inclined to be anywhere near her absolute bestest friend.

"Keep up," Jace said, turning to walk backwards and glare irritably at Clary. "I don't want to have to keep looking behind me to make sure nothing's happened to you."

"So don't bother," Clary suggested harshly.

"Last time I left you alone, a demon attacked you."

"Well, I'd certainly hate to interrupt your pleasant night stroll with my sudden death," she hissed in response.

A smirk crossed Jace's face and he turned to me with a glint in his eyes like we were the only ones in on some little joke. "Death? Not at all. Jaci would save you."

Clary looked at me over her shoulder. The resemblance she had to Jocelyn was still startling to me, even though I'd been there when Izzy had made the transformation take place.

"No worries," I smiled.

Her answering smile was a travesty. I caught up so that I was walking beside her. Jace dropped into line on her other side.

"What's up, buttercup?" I asked with concern.

Clary glanced between the two of us nervously. "This morning, weird creepy guys dug around in my brain. Now I'm going to meet the weird creepy guy who originally dug around in my brain. What if I don't like what he finds?"

"What makes you think you won't?" Jace asked.

Clary huffed. "I hate it when you answer a question with a question."

"I hate it when you avoid answering a question," Jace retaliated.

I echoed Clary's words from that morning. "Are we _five_?"

Clary sputtered out a no and Jace reached behind her back to tug on my hair. Apparently he was five.

"Grow up, Wayland," I said, pushing his hand away. He shot me a quizzical look and I smiled. Add that to my list of things I liked about Jace: he's easy to be silly with, despite his random mature airs.

"Anyway," he said, "wouldn't you rather know the truth?"

Clary shook her head almost in defeat. "No. I mean, maybe. I don't know. Would you?"

"This is the right street!" Isabelle called before Jace had a chance to respond. The street she was talking about, I vaguely recognized, almost like it was from a dream or something. In most of the windows were boxes filled with flowers, the most alive plants I'd seen all day. They looked orange in the glow from the street lights.

"Absolutely. Always," Jace said softly. I met his gaze over Clary's head.

"What?" Clary asked.

"The truth," he began. "I would-"

"Jace!" Alec yelled from just a bit up the block.

Slowly, Jace faced Alec. "Yes?"

"Think we're in the right place?" Alec asked, pointing.

Jace glanced at me quickly with a raised eyebrow before joining Alec. "What's that?"

I shrugged in response to Clary's inquisitive look and we went to see what the fuss was about: motorcycles. I laughed with mild amusement, they were such boys, getting all into motorcycles.

"Vampires," Jace announced with a curbed enthusiasm.

"They look like motorcycles to me," Simon commented. Isabelle was less than a step behind him, beside me Clary exhaled heavily.

"They are," Isabelle explained, "but they've been altered to run on demon energies. Vampires use them – it lets them get around fast at night. It's not strictly Covenant, but…"

"I've hear some of the bikes can fly," Alec said, sounding as though Christmas had come early. So this boy did show other emotion besides blah. "Or go invisible at the flick of a switch. Or operate under water."

"Impressive," I stated.

Alec's excited look faded slightly when he looked at me, but he seemed civil enough. I didn't blame him for his hesitancy about me, I was just glad he was more tolerant of me than he was of Clary.

"Victorious night," Jace announced, pointing to the words painted on one of the bikes: NOX INVICTUS.

Alec cast him a sidelong look. "What are you doing?"

Jace smoothed his jacket. "Nothing."

"Well, hurry up," said Isabelle. "I didn't get this dressed up to watch you mess around in the gutter with a bunch of motorcycles."

"They are pretty to look at," Jace pointed out. "You have to admit that."

"So are we." Isabelle's gesture included me and I was mildly shocked. "Now hurry up."

I spun around on the ball of my foot to face Isabelle when I felt someone lift my hair and brush it so it fell over my left shoulder. I glanced over my shoulder to look at Jace.

"Hold still," he warned, holding his stele to the base of my neck.

I couldn't have moved if I wanted to. His hands against the bare skin of my neck sent adrenaline spiking through my veins. I could feel myself getting nervous and jittery.

"All done," he whispered in my ear, allowing my hair to fall back into place. Then he spoke to Clary, "This building, is this the one?"

Clary contemplated the building in question. "I think so… they all look the same."

"One way to find out," Isabelle said happily, walking into the small vestibule. The rest of us followed her, packing into the small space. Isabelle punched the buzzer on the wall labeled "Bane".

Nothing happened. How anticlimactic. Isabelle hit the buzzer again. Same results. She went to press it again and Alec stopped her.

"Don't be rude."

"Alec-"

The door opened with a bang, revealing a slender figure framed there.

"Magnus?" Isabelle asked after a moment. "Magnus Bane?"

"That would be me," the man drawled lazily. I couldn't believe how tall he was, a couple inches over Alec even. And he looked like he was the queen of glitter. His black hair was spiked and crusted in glitter, his jeans had tons of sparkling buckles and his almond shaped eyes were ringed with shimmering make-up. I thought of something I'd once seen as Jaelyn Flynn, "Magnus Bane: Sparklier than Edward Cullen since 1209." "Children of the Nephilim. Well, well. I don't recall inviting you."

Isabelle drew out the invitation with a flourish. "I have an invitation and these are my friends."

The man snatched the invitation out of her hand and studied it closely before tossing it aside. "I must have been drunk." He threw the door open then. "Come in. And try not to murder any of my guests."

"Even if one of them spills a drink on my new shoes?" Jace asked, eyeing up Magnus.

"Even then." With nimble hands, Magnus pulled Jace's stele from his hands. "As for this," he said, slipping it into Jace's pocket, "keep it in your pants, Shadowhunter."

"That's what she said?" I heard Simon whisper somewhere behind me.

Magnus grinned and started up the stairs. "Come on, before anyone thinks it's _my _party."

The rest of the group started edging around Jace.

"Try not to piss him off," Isabelle advised on her way by. "Then he won't help us."

Jace assumed an expression of utter boredom. "I know what I'm doing."

"I hope so," she muttered before making her own way up the stairs.

"Well," Jace asked me. "Are you coming or not?"

I glanced back at the street. "Do I have a choice?"

He must have picked up something in my voice. "What is it?"

With a small smile, laughing at myself, I shook my head. "He just looks familiar, that's all."

"That's a good sign we're in the right place," he pointed out.

With a nod, I went past him and up the stairs.

"Don't touch the banister," Simon called down from near the top of the stairs. "Clary got some gunk on her hand."

With an expression of distaste, I kept myself carefully in the center of the staircase. I did not dig unidentified slime. The steps vibrated slightly with the bass coming from the top of the stairs. I paused the moment I walked through the door.

This was someone's house? Colored Christmas lights wrapped around pillars provided the dim lighting, making the guests look even more bizarre than they were. Off to the side was a bar made from doors and garbage cans where a four-armed woman worked quickly tending drinks that looked mildly toxic. Clary was standing beside me and staring, overwhelmed.

"Come on," said a soft voice behind me. "Let's dance."

Jace caught my hand and pulled me out into the throng of the dance floor. I tried my best to act naturally but inside I was freaking out. There were people with wings and pointed teeth and vampires sipping blood from wine glasses. And then there was Jace's warm hand covering mine, leading me forwards. Occasionally he would turn his golden head and grin at me. My heart pounded loudly in my ears along with the music.

He pulled me in close.

"Um, Jace?" I said, just loud enough for him to hear me.

"Hm?"

I bit my lip awkwardly. "I… I don't dance."

He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Well, I _do _dance," I continued. "Just not like _that_." I nodded over towards where I could just see Isabelle dancing on Simon.

Jace laughed and pulled me close to him, his hands sliding down to my hips. "Don't worry, I'll help you."

I shook my head. "It's no use, I'm helpless in the dirty dancing area."

"Just relax," he advised. The music changed to a slightly slower song then and Jace cursed.

"What's wrong?" I asked with a smile, feeling as though I'd just been saved from some terribly embarrassing moment. He mumbled something in response that I couldn't hear. Still feeling extremely relieved, I wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my head on his shoulder.

"I hate slow songs," he mumbled. He didn't really sound like he meant it.

For some reason, I felt oddly courageous for myself and kissed his neck, just below his ear. When he pulled away from me, I felt as though I'd been slapped but then his hand turned my face up and his lips met mine. My hands found his silky hair, curling a lock around my finger while his hands explored my back, crushing my body into his. Blood pounded in my ears and I forgot about everything else except for the feeling of Jace and the taste of his lips.

We broke apart, breathing heavily.

A winged girl dancing nearby dropped two strands of tiny flowers around Jace's neck. He looked down at them in surprise before taking one off and putting it in my hair.

"Hey," I protested, reaching up to pull it out.

He caught my wrist. "No. Leave it." And he bent to kiss me again.

"Jace!"

We both snapped towards the voice. I was surprised to see the waitress from Taki's making her way towards us. Jace grabbed my hand and pulled me back through the crowd, laughing. It didn't take long before we met up with a sullen looking Alec. The dark haired boy glanced at Jace's and my entwined hands and cast me a dark look.

"Aren't we supposed to be finding out what's in Clary's head?" he asked.

Jace grinned at his friend. "Who said we couldn't have some fun first? You're right though. We were just going to find Magnus now."

Alec nodded and went with us. Clary was still by the door with Magnus. I smiled when I saw my sister but she looked considerably less than amused.

"Where are Simon and Isabelle?" she asked as soon as we were close enough to talk.

"On the dance floor," Jace said, pointing.

Clary looked over at them with distaste, scowling.

"Look," Jace said to Magnus, "we really need to talk to-"

"MAGNUS BANE!" roared a short, muscular man. A vampire. "_Someone _just poured holy water into the gas tank on my bike. It's ruined. Destroyed. All the pipes are melted."

"Melted?" Magnus asked. "How dreadful."

"I want to know who did it," the man said, baring his fangs. "I thought you swore there'd be no wolf-men here tonight, _Bane_."

Magnus looked bored and examined his nails while he answered. "I invited none of the Moon's Children precisely because of your stupid little feud. If any of them decided to sabotage your bike, they weren't a guest of mine, and are therefore… not my responsibility." He smiled sweetly.

Spluttering, the vampire advanced on the tall warlock. "Are you trying to tell me that-"

Magnus twitched a finger and the vampire's voice vanished.

"You've worn out your welcome," Magnus said, fully opening his eyes and revealing their vertical pupils. "Now go." He waved a hand at the vampire and he turned and marched out the door.

"That was impressive," Jace admitted.

"You mean that little hiss fit?" Magnus asked. "I know. What _is _her problem?"

Alec laughed. "We put holy water in his gas tank, you know," he said with excitement.

"ALEC! Shut up," Jace said.

"I assumed that. Vindictive little bastards, aren't you?" Magnus chuckled. "You know their bikes run on demon energies. I doubt he'll be able to repair it."

Jace shrugged. "One less leech with a fancy ride. My heart bleeds."

"I heard some of them can make their bikes fly," Alec continued with the same animated tone.

"Merely an old witches' tale," Magnus dismissed, smiling slightly at Alec. "So is that why you wanted to crash my party? Just to wreck some bloodsucker bikes?"

"No," Jace said shortly. "We need to talk to you. Preferably somewhere private."

"Am I in trouble with the Clave?" he asked.

"No," said Jace.

"Probably not," Alec chipped in. Jace kicked him in the ankle. "Ow!"

"No," Jace said again. "we can talk to you under the seal of the Covenant. If you help us, anything you say will be confidential."

"And if I don't help you?" Magnus asked.

Jace stuck his free hand in his pocket. "Maybe nothing. Maybe a visit from the Silent City."

The warlock smiled sarcastically sweet. "That's quite a choice you're offering me, little Shadowhunter."

"It's no choice at all."

Magnus's smile had faded. "Yes. That's exactly what I meant."

* * *

Magnus took us to his room. Everything was a different, equally obnoxious color and jars, most of the opened, were crammed onto a bright blue vanity table.

"Nice place," Jace commented, moving aside the curtain to look out the dirty window. "Guess it pays well, being the High Warlock of Brooklyn?"

"It pays," Magnus agreed. "Not much of a benefit package, though. No dental." He leaned against the closed door. "So, what's on your devious little minds?"

"It's not them, actually," Clary spoke up. "I'm the one who wanted to talk to you."

Magnus considered her briefly. "You are not one of them. Not of the Clave but you can see the Invisible World."

"Our mother was one of the Clave," I said, watching carefully for Magnus's reaction. "She kept it a secret from us though."

"You seem to know enough about the Clave," he pointed out.

I nodded solemnly. "I do. Maybe you can explain why."

"Ask your mother," he suggested.

"We can't," Clary said. "She's… she's gone."

"And your father?"

"He died before I was born," she explained.

Magnus looked irritated. "As Oscar Wilde once said, 'To lose one parent may be regarded as a misfortune. To lose both seems like carelessness.'"

Jace hissed softly. I sighed, suddenly tired, and sat down right on the floor.

"We didn't lose our mother," Clary said. "She was taken. By Valentine."

"I don't know any Valentine," the warlock lied. "I'm sorry for your tragic circumstances, but I fail to see what any of this has to do with me. If you could tell me-"

"She can't tell you," Jace interrupted, "because she can't remember. Someone erased her memories. So we went to the Silent City to see what the Brothers could pull out of her head. They got two words. I think you can guess what they were."

Magnus smiled bitterly. "My signature. I knew it was folly when I did it. An act of hubris…"

"You _signed _my mind?" Clary asked, incredulously.

Slowly, he raised his hand and traced fiery letters in the air. His own name spelled out for us to see.

"I was proud of my work on you," he said. "On both of you. Though, I could hardly sign that one," he nodded his head towards me, "that would have been too obvious. But you," he turned back to Clary. "It was so clean. So perfect. What you saw you would forget, even as you saw it. No image of pixie or goblin or long-legged bestie would remain to trouble your blameless mortal sleep. It was the way she wanted it."

Clary's voice was timid, almost afraid to ask. "The way who wanted it?"

The answer was obvious, even before Magnus spoke. Who else could it have been?

"Your mother."


	17. Rattus Norvegicus

**Happy Valentine's/Singles' Awareness Day! Whichever one you're celebrating. I personally celebrated Goldfish, Chocolate, and Cupcake Day. I should name every day by the main foods I eat. (By the way, that's Goldfish as in the snack that smiles back. Fish are friends, not food.)**

**Anywho, this chapter is longer! Be happy and celebrate the times! Come on! I don't even _like _that song... But that's beside the point. So the next chapter(I think it's that one at least) I intend to add a twist. Be prepared! Wait, scratch that. Don't look for it, let it find you. Gosh, I really shouldn't eat candy before typing these author's notes...**

**I do not own TMI! Entiende Ud.?**

* * *

"My _mother _did this to me?" Clary demanded. She sounded as though she were reciting memorized lines. "Why?"

"I don't know," Magnus said with a shrug. "It's not my job to ask questions. I do what I get paid to do."

"Within the bounds of the Covenant," Jace said softly.

Magnus nodded regally. "Within the bonds of the Covenant, of course."

"So the Covenant's all right with this – this mind-rape?" Clary asked. She sank down into a large armchair. "Was it only once? Was there something specific she wanted me to forget? Do you know what it was?"

Magnus crossed over to the window, narrowly avoiding stepping on my foot. "I don't think you understand. The first time I ever saw either of you, you were toddlers. Two and three years old maybe. I was watching out this window and I saw her hurrying up the street, holding something wrapped in a blanket and towing along a little child. I was surprised when she stopped at my door. She looked so ordinary, so young.

"She unwrapped the blanket and you were inside it. She set you down on the floor by your sister and you started ranging around, picking things up, pulling my cat's tail – you screamed like a banshee when the cat scratched you, so I asked your mother if you _were _part banshee. She didn't laugh." He paused for a breath and Jace sank down beside me. "She told me she was a Shadowhunter. There was no point in her lying about it; Covenant Marks show up, even when they've faded with time, like faint silver scars against the skin. They flickered when she moved. She told me she'd hoped you'd been born with a blind Inner Eye – some Shadowhunters have to be taught to see the Shadow World. But she'd caught you, both of you, teasing a pixie trapped in a hedge. She knew you could _see_. So she asked me if it was possible to blind you of the Sight."

Clary made a slightly pained noise. Her face looked pale and grey.

"I told her that crippling that part of the mind could leave you damaged, possibly insane. She didn't cry. She wasn't the sort of woman who weeps easily, your mother. She asked me if there was another way, and I told her you could be made to forget those parts of the Shadow World that you could see, even as you saw them. The only caveat was that she'd have to come to me every two years as the results of the spell began to fade."

"And did she?" Clary asked.

"Yes and no. She never brought you again," Magnus indicated me. "But you," and back to Clary, "I've seen you every two years since that first time – I've watched you grow up. You're the only child I have ever watched grow up that way, you know. In my business one isn't generally that welcome around human children."

"So you recognized Clary when we walked in," Jace pointed out. "You must have."

"I recognized them both," Magnus said, exasperated. "How many members of the Clave have faded Marks? It was a shock. But what would you have done? Neither of them knew me. They weren't supposed to know me. Just the fact that she was here meant the spell had started to fad – and in fact, we were due for another visit about a month ago. I even came by your house when I got back from Tanzania, but Jocelyn said that you had had a fight and you two had run off. She said she'd call on me when you can back but, she never did."

I remembered that day, seeing him and then Clary's strange reaction. "I saw you!"

"I remember your eyes," Clary added.

Magnus looked pleased. "I'm memorable it's true." Then he shook his head at Clary. "You shouldn't remember me, I threw up a glamour as hard as a wall as soon as I saw you. You should have run right into it face-first – psychically speaking."

"If you take the spell of me," Clary began, "will I be able to remember all the things I've forgotten? All the memories you stole?"

There was a slight pause before Magnus responded. "I can't take it off you."

"What?" I demanded.

"Why not?" Jace asked. "The Clave requires you-"

"I don't like being told what to do, little Shadowhunter," Magnus said coldly.

"Don't you know how to reverse it?" Alec asked before Jace could throw back a retort. "The spell, I mean."

"Undoing a spell is a great deal more difficult than creating it in the first place," explained Magnus with infinite patience. "The intricacy of this one, the care I put into weaving it – if I made even the smallest mistake in unraveling it, her mind could be damaged forever. Besides, it's already begun to fade. The effects will vanish over time on their own."

Clary looked angry. "Will I get all my memories back then? Whatever was taken out of my head?"

"I don't know. They might come back all at once, or in stages. Or you might never remember what you've forgotten over the years. What your mother asked me to do was unique, in my experience. I've no idea what will happen."

"But I don't want to wait," Clary said. I wondered if she was thinking about all the years she had thought I was crazy because I could see the things she couldn't. But I could understand how she was feeling, caught in a world she hadn't known existed and she can't even see it clearly. "All my life I've felt like there was something wrong with me. Something missing or damaged. Now I know-"

"I didn't damage you," Magnus interrupted harshly. "Every teenager in the world feels like that, feels broken or out of place, different somehow, royalty mistakenly born into a family of peasants. The difference in your case is that it's true. You _are _different. Maybe not better – but different. And it's no picnic being different. You want to know what it's like when your parents are good churchgoing folk and you happen to be born with the devil's mark?" He indicated his own catlike eyes. "When your father flinches at the sight of you and your mother hangs herself in the barn, driven mad by what she's done? When I was ten, my father tried to drown me in the creek. I lashed out at him with everything I had – burned him where he stood. I went to the fathers of the church eventually, for sanctuary. They hid me. They say that pity's a bitter thing, but it's better than hate. When I found out what I was really, only half a human being, I hated myself. Anything's better than that."

How are you supposed to respond to something like that? Magnus's story made Jace's childhood look like he grew up in Disney World.

"It wasn't your fault," Alec said softly. "You can't help how you're born."

"I'm over it," the warlock dismissed. "I think you get my point. Different isn't better, Clarissa. Your mother was trying to protect you. Don't throw it back in her face."

I went into my own world then. Jocelyn had taken away Clary's memories to protect her, so why hadn't she had mine taken away too? Did I not need to be protected? Or was it part of a plan to protect Clary even more by having someone around her who could watch out for the Shadow World? Magnus had said he was proud of his work on both of us, what had he done to me? And he knew about my Mark.

"Jaci? Are you with us? Jaci?" Jace asked, waving his hand in front of my face.

"Sorry, zoned out for a bit there."

"Magnus has something to show you both."

I got to my feet and walked over by Clary where she was looking through a thick green book. Each page held a single rune.

"Gramarye?" I asked.

Magnus smirked. "Yes."

Jace looked at me in confusion. "How did you-?"

He was cut off by a reproachful cry from Clary as Magnus plucked the book from Clary's hands.

"That's enough," he said, returning the book to its shelf. "If you read all the runes at once, you'll give yourself a headache."

"But-"

"Most Shadowhunter children grow up learning one rune at a time over a period of years," Jace said. "The Gray Book contains runes even I don't know."

"Imagine that," Magnus murmured. I laughed.

"Magnus showed you the rune for understanding and remembrance. It opens your mind up to reading and recognizing the rest of the Marks," Jace explained.

"It may also serve as a trigger to activate dormant memories. They could return to you more quickly than they would otherwise. It's the best I can do." His tone was almost apologetic.

Clary looked sad. "I still don't remember anything about the Mortal Cup."

The warlock's eyebrows shot up. "Is _that _what this is about? You're after the Angel's Cup? Look, I've been through your memories. There was nothing in them about the Mortal Instruments."

"Mortal Instruments?" Clary echoed. I was glad I wasn't the only one who was lost.

"The Angel gave three items to the first Shadowhunters. A cup, a sword, and a mirror. The Silent Brothers have the sword; the cup and mirror were in Idris, at least until Valentine came along."

"Nobody knows where the mirror is," Alec pointed out. "Nobody's know for ages."

"It's the Cup that concerns us," Jace said. "Valentine's looking for it."

Magnus's eyebrows climbed his forehead once more. "And you want to get it before he does?"

"I thought you said you didn't know who Valentine was?" Clary asked saucily. I wanted to high five her.

"I lied," Magnus admitted.

"Surprise, surprise," I commented.

"I'm not one of the fey. I'm not required to be truthful. And only a fool would get between Valentine and his revenge."

"Is that what you think he's after?" inquired Jace. "Revenge?"

"I would guess so. He suffered a grave defeat, and he hardly seemed – seems – the type of man to suffer defeat gracefully."

Alec regarded Magnus carefully, the same way I'd seen him regard Jace. "Were you at the Uprising?"

Magnus met the Shadowhunter boy's gaze evenly. "I was. I killed a number of your folk."

"Circle members," Jace pointed out. "Not ours-"

"If you insist on disavowing that which is ugly about what you do, you will never learn from your mistakes," Magnus said without looking at him.

Alec looked away. "You don't seem surprised to hear that Valentine's still alive."

"Are you?"

It was regarded as a rhetorical question.

"So you won't help us find the Mortal Cup?" Jace asked.

"I wouldn't if I could, which by the way, I can't. I've no idea where it is, and I don't care to know. Only a fool, as I said."

Alec argued, "But without the Cup, we can't-"

"Make more of you," Magnus finished. "I know. Perhaps not everyone regards that as quite the disaster that you do. Mind you, if I had to choose between the Clave and Valentine, I would choose the Clave. At least they're not actually sworn to wipe out my kind. But nothing the Clave has done has earned my unswerving loyalty either. So no, I'll just sit this one out. Now if we're done here, I'd like to get back to my party before any of the guests eat each other."

Jace opened his mouth to say something but Alec stopped him. "Is that likely?" Alec asked.

"It's happened before," Magnus said with amusement before walking towards the door.

"Wait," I said suddenly.

Everyone turned to look at me.

"You said you were proud of the work you did on both of us," I pointed out. "I'm just wondering what the hell you did to me."

Magnus turned deadly serious. "I saved you."

"What?" I asked, rather taken aback.

He sighed and suddenly looked rather weary. "Your marvelous runes aren't always good. When Jocelyn brought you here, you were what, three years old? You should have been acting like Clarissa, running around and ruining my things. Instead, you climbed up on a chair that was much too tall for you and sat there and stared. That's all you did. You watched what went on, understanding more than you should have, like a little adult. Then your mother showed me your hand. Three years old with a permanent Mark. It was killing you, slowly. I had no idea how it hadn't already done so. Jocelyn asked me to remove it, if I could."

I looked down at the faded rune. "You did."

He nodded. "It's true. She then asked me to take your Sight as well. As you probably realized, I couldn't."

"Do you know," Jace asked slowly, "who Marked her?"

Magnus shook his head. "I asked, but Jocelyn didn't say."

"I thought it wasn't in your job to ask questions," I pointed out.

"You didn't know yourself as a child. It wasn't natural," he said. "When Jocelyn never brought you back, I assumed it was because you _had_ died. Obviously, that's not true. Now if you'll just all follow me…"

Magnus led us back to the party where now a group of faeries were providing the music.

"I hate faerie bands," Magnus said. "All they ever play is mopey ballads."

Jace laughed and looked around. "Where's Isabelle?"

"I don't see him," Clary said beside me. "Them, I mean."

Alec spotted Isabelle first. "There she is. Over here. And watch out for the phouka."

"Watch out for the phouka?" Jace echoed, turning to Alec.

"He pinched me when I passed him earilier. In a highly personal area," Alec said, turning slightly red.

"I hate to break it to you, but if he's interested in your highly personal areas, he probably isn't interested in your sister's."

"Not necessarily," Magnus contradicted. "Faeries aren't particular."

Jace sneered at Magnus. "You still here?"

Isabelle stumbled up then, pink in the face. "Jace! Alec! Jaci! Where have you been? I've been looking all over-"

"Where Simon?" interrupted Clary.

Isabelle scowled. "He's a rat."

Alec went immediately protective. "Did he do something to you? Did he touch you? If he tried anything-"

"Simon wouldn't do anything like that," I protested. Jace looked at me condescendingly. "Don't look at me like that. He's like my little brother."

"She's right, Alec," Isabelle said. "Not like that. He's a _rat._"

"She's drunk," Jace assessed, lip curling in disgust.

"I'm not," Isabelle objected. "Well, maybe a little, but that's not the point. The point is, Simon drank one of those blue drinks – I told him not to, but he didn't listen – and he _turned into a rat_."

"A _rat_?" Clary cried in disbelief. "You don't mean…"

"I mean a rat," the other girl said bluntly. "Little. Brown. Scaly tail."

"The Clave isn't going to like this," Alec stated. "I'm pretty sure turning mundane into rats is against the Law."

"Technically she didn't turn him into a rat. The worst she could be accused of is negligence," Jace said.

"Jace, be serious. Please."

"Who _cares _about the stupid Law?" Clary screamed, seizing Isabelle by the wrist. "My best friend is a rat!"

"Ouch! Let go of me!"

"Not until you tell me where he is," Clary threatened. "I can't believe you just left him – he's probably terrified-"

"If he hasn't been stepped on," Jace interjected.

"Not helping," I said, stepping to pry Clary's fingers off of Isabelle.

"I didn't leave him. He ran under the bar. She's denting my bracelet," Isabelle complained to me.

"Bitch," Clary hissed, releasing Isabelle and storming off for Simon.

Intoxicated Izzy stumbled and fell into me. "Whoopsies!"

I steadied her. "Urgh, you're a terrible drunk."

She frowned. "I told you, I'm not drunk."

"Not very drunk," Jace corrected.

"Same difference."

I moved Isabelle's arm so that it was around Alec's shoulders for support instead of mine. "I'm going to see if Clary needs help with her… pest control or whatever." I followed the same path Clary had taken to the bar; carefully avoiding stepping in someone's spilled drink. Clary was on her hands and knees, dress riding up dangerously far in the back, reaching for something in the dark space there.

"Do you have him?" I asked.

"Is he under there?" Jace said from behind me.

Clary nodded. "Shh. You'll frighten him off. Please come out, Simon. We'll get Magnus to reverse the spell. It'll be okay. Simon! You understood me!" Clary jumped up, cradling Simon-the-rat in her hands. He was kind of cute, in a rodent kind of way. His little pink nose quivered while Clary hugged him close. "Oh, poor baby. Poor Simon, it'll be fine, I promise-"

"I wouldn't feel too sorry for him. That's probably the closest he's ever gotten to second base," Jace pointed out.

"Shut _up_!" Clary yelled.

"She has a point," I added. "Simon has had girlfriends before."

"Were you one of them?" he asked curiously.

I almost gagged. "He's pretty much my brother! Ew. No offense, Simon," I added.

"Get Magnus," Clary ordered. "We have to turn him back."

"Let's not be hasty." Jace grinned and reached to rub Simon's tiny head. "He's cute like that. Look at his little pink nose.

I could hardly reprimand him for the comment; I'd thought the same thing before.

I changed my mind quickly when Simon snapped his protruding yellow teeth at Jace.

"Izzy, go fetch our magnificent host," Jace said.

"Why me?"

"Because it's your fault the mundane's a rat, idiot," he responded. "And we can't leave him here."

"You'd be happy to leave him if it weren't for her," Isabelle said as she stalked off.

"What Isabelle doesn't understand," Jace said very quietly, "is that I wouldn't mind leaving her here if it weren't for _you_."

"What?" I asked.

"Hmm?" he responded.

"I can't believe she let you drink that blue drink," Clary chatted to the rat, er, Simon. "Now you see what you get for being so shallow."

"_Rattus norvegicus_," Magnus said, appearing with Isabelle. "A common brown rat, nothing exotic."

"I don't care what kind of rat he is, I want him turned back," Clary said angrily.

"No point," Magnus observed.

Jace smiled, proud of himself. "That's what I said."

"NO POINT?" Clary bellowed. "HOW CAN YOU SAY THERE'S NO POINT?"

Around us, people were starting to stare. I pinched the bridge of my nose and found a spot on the floor to study, I hated scenes like this.

"Because he'll turn back on his own in a few hours," Magnus said. "The effect of the cocktails is temporary. No point working up a transformation spell; it'll just traumatize him. Too much magic is hard on mundane, their systems aren't used to it."

"I doubt his system is used to being a rat, either," Clary pointed out.

"Not saying I don't agree with you on the whole 'make Simon human again' subject, but doesn't he temporarily have a rat's system so he sort of is used to it?" I asked.

"Shush," Clary said. "You're a warlock, can't you just reverse the spell?"

Magnus thought about that for a moment. "No."

"You mean you won't."

"Not for free, darling, and you can't afford me."

"I can't take a rat home on the subway either. I'll drop him, or one of the MTA police will arrest me for transporting pests on the transit system," she argued. "Not that you're a pest," she assured Simon.

Angry voices started picking up over by the door. Magnus looked annoyed. "Excuse me."

Isabelle sighed. "So much for _his _help."

"You know, you could always put the rat in your backpack," Alec suggested.

Clary looked like she was going to argue, but took his advice. "Let's get out of here," she said. "I'm sick of this place."

I wholeheartedly agreed with her. I was tired and slightly shell-shocked and ready to go to sleep even though all I'd done all day was sleep. I feel into step beside staggering Isabelle, making our way to the door. A hand softly brushed my bare shoulder and I looked to see Jace smiling faintly.

"Sorry," he said. I doubted his sincerity.

"All right," Magnus yelled over the din of voices. "That's IT! Party's over! Everybody out!"

The crowd was thick trying to get out the door and we all got slightly separated. I could see Clary's red hair a little ahead of me and the vampire that turned to flirt with her.

"Hey, pretty thing. What's in the bag?"

I popped up by Clary's elbow. "A crucifix," I said as Jace appeared on her other side saying, "Holy water."

"Oooh, _Shadowhunters_." The vampire winked. "Scary."

"Vampires are _such _prima donnas," Magnus sighed from his position holding up the wall. "Honestly, I don't know why I have these parties."

"Because of your cat," Clary stated.

I looked at Jace but he seemed to be as lost as I was.

"That's true," Magnus agreed. "Chairman Meow deserves my ever effort. You on your way out?"

"Don't want to overstay our welcome," Jace said.

"What welcome? I'd say it was a pleasure to meet you, but it wasn't. Not that you aren't all fairly charming, and as for you-" Magnus winked suggestively at Alec, who blinked in amazement, "call me?"

Alec started blushing and stuttering, seemingly unable to move until Jace steered him towards the door. Isabelle caught my arm and linked it with hers, using me as support.

"That was a fun party," she said while she clomped noisily down the stairs.

"Oh yes. Because finding out you almost died as a toddler and having your friend turned into a rat is my idea of _fun_," I said, all my precious sarcasm lost on Isabelle in her present state.

Instead, she giggled and leaned in like she was telling me a secret. "It was fun, wasn't it? Before…"

Before she got Simon turned into a rat. I thought about that. If you described part of the party that way I suppose it could be considered fun. _Though,_ I thought, looking at Jace,_ I would probably use a different word than fun._

"You're blushing," Isabelle observed. "Why?"

"I'm not blushing," I argued. "It's warm out here." And it was. The air on the street was dense and humid. I couldn't understand how Jace and Alec could have worn jackets. "Clary's not out here yet," I called to the two boys who were a little way off.

I heard Jace sigh. "Of course she's not."

Isabelle detached herself from me and went over to Alec, apparently worried once more. I shook my head at her and leaned against the stairway railing, staring listlessly at the few vampires still observing their destroyed motorcycles. My eyes flicked up when Jace walked over.

"Does she always do that?" I asked. "Isabelle. Does she always change moods that quickly?"

Jace cast a dark look at his sister. "Only when she's drunk."

"Does she get drunk a lot?" I asked curiously.

"No, thank God."

Clary came out of the door then, offering no explanation as to why she took so long. She also didn't bother to say anything to either of us and just began to walk. I fell into step beside her, with Jace on my other side. Isabelle and Alec were up ahead, arguing about Simon. Loudly.

I tuned them out and thought about what I'd learned from Magnus. I almost died when I was three. The scar on the back of my hand was no longer just a strange thing to be mildly curious about; it was now a sign of avoiding death. Did it also explain my random, unaccounted for knowledge? No, the books explained that. The books. Jace had found one and had almost started reading it. I would have to hide them better. Or destroy them. The more I thought about it, the more I knew: I would not be able to make myself burn the books. I was just going to have to stash them away, somewhere even Jace wouldn't randomly dig through.

Clary stopped walking and I turned to see what was the problem. Jace looked annoyed at the delay. "What's wrong? Did he chew a nest out of your socks?"

"Clary?" I asked, her face was terribly white.

"He's gone," she said, voice shaking. "Simon. He was in my backback-"

"Are you sure he didn't climb out?" I asked.

She whirled on me. "_Of course he didn't_! What, you think he wants to get smashed under someone's car, killed by a cat-"

"Talking about the worst case scenarios," I interrupted loudly, "is not going to help in any way, shape, or form."

"Be reasonable, Clary," Jace suggested.

"Shut up!" she shouted at him, attempting to hit him. "You were the one who said not to bother changing him back-"

Jace plucked the bag out of her hands and examined it. "The zipper's torn from the outside. Someone ripped this bag open."

"I didn't…" Clary whispered, going from angry to shocked again.

"Of course you didn't," I assured her.

"Alec! Isabelle!" Jace yelled. "You go on ahead! We'll catch up."

Isabelle waved and pushed Alec towards the subway. Jace took Clary by the shoulder and turned her around, guiding her back in the direction we had come from. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She didn't let go.

Jace punched the buzzer for Magnus's apartment.

"Jace, Jaci?" Clary asked in a small voice. "Do you think he's all right?"

"Simon?" Jace asked. He hesitated and pressed the buzzer again.

"We'll find him," I promised. I knew Clary would pick up the fact I hadn't answered her question.

"WHO DARES DISTURB MY REST?" I jumped as Magnus's voice blared through the entryway.

"Jace Wayland. Remember? I'm from the Clave."

"Oh, yes," Magnus said brightly. "Are you the one with the blue eyes?"

"He means Alec," Clary said.

Jace smirked into the intercom. "No. My eyes are usually described as golden, and luminous."

"Oh, you're _that_ one," Magnus pouted. "I suppose you'd better come up."

Magnus was not a happy camper. He answered the door in a silk kimono and a turban, glowering down on us poor souls. I was starting to wish Alec was with us, for distraction purposes.

"I was sleeping," Magnus said.

"We left like seven minutes ago," I pointed out.

Clary stepped on my foot. "Sorry to bother you-"

She cut off on the arrival of a small grey and white, fluffy cat. I stared. Cats were supposed to be… they weren't supposed to be… gah.

"Chairman Meow?" Clary asked.

Magnus nodded regally. "He has returned."

"That's not a cat. It's the size of a hamster," Jace observed.

Magnus nudged the cat out of the way. "I am kindly going to forget you said that. Now, exactly what did you come here for?"

"It's Simon," Clary said, holding up her bag. "He's missing."

"Ah. Missing what, exactly?" the warlock asked.

"_Missing_," Jace reiterated, "as in gone, absent, notable for his lock of a presence, disappeared."

"Maybe he's gone and hidden under something," Magnus suggested. "It can't be easy getting used to being a rat, especially for someone so dim-witted in the first place."

"Simon's not dim-witted," Clary hissed.

Jace nodded his agreement. "It's true. He just _looks _dim-witted. Really his intelligence is quite average."

I considered jabbing Jace in the side with my elbow but he'd probably just laugh. Instead, I said, "Her bag is torn, not chewed through. He couldn't have gotten out by himself. And if he could have, he wouldn't have. He's not stupid."

"I think one of your guests took the rat. Simon, I mean," Jace said.

Magnus raised one eyebrow. "And?"

"And I need to find out who it was. I'm guess you know. You _are _the High Warlock of Brooklyn. I'm thinking not much happens in your own apartment that you don't know about," said Jace.

"You're not wrong."

"Please tell us," Clary said. Jace looked annoyed at her interference. "Please."

Magnus sighed in defeat. "Fine. I saw one of the vampire bike kids from the uptown lair leave with a brown rat in his hands. Honestly, I figured it was one of their own. Sometimes the Night Children turn into rats or bats when they get drunk."

"But now you think it was _Simon_?" Clary asked, trembling.

"It's just a guess, but it seems likely."

"There's one more thing." Jace drew out a pause for dramatics. Knowing what he wanted, I cut him off.

"Where's their lair?"

"Their what?" Magnus asked.

"Their lair," I repeated.

"That's where they went, isn't it?" Jace said. Apparently we were a friggin' tag team.

"I would imagine so," Magnus said elusively.

"I need you to tell us where it is," said Jace quietly.

Magnus shook his head adamantly. "I'm not setting myself on the bad side of the Night Children for a mundane I don't even know."

"Wait," Clary spoke up. "What would they want with Simon? I thought they weren't allowed to hurt people…" About time someone asked that question.

"My guess? They assumed he was a tame rat and thought it would be funny to kill a Shadowhunter's pet. They don't like you much, whatever the Accords might say – and there's nothing in the Covenant about not killing animals," Magnus admitted.

Clary froze. "They're going to kill him?" she asked stiffly.

"Not necessarily," Magnus amended. "They might have thought he was one of their own."

"In which case, what'll happen to him?" Clary almost whispered.

"Well, when he turns back into a human, they'll _still _kill him. But you might have a few more hours."

"Then you have to help us," Clary begged. "Otherwise Simon will die."

"They all die dear," Magnus said gently. "You might as well get used to it."

Magnus went to close the door but Jace wedged it open with his foot and I caught it with my hand.

"He doesn't have to die _now_," I said quietly, watching Magnus's face closely.

Slowly, the warlock opened the door wider, before slamming it against his forehead. "The old Hotel Dumont. Uptown."

Jace smiled proudly. "I know where that is."

"We need to get there right away. Do you have a Portal?" Clary asked.

"I _highly doubt _every Downworld connected person we meet will have a Portal stashed in their backroom," I pointed out, voice lacking sarcasm. For once.

"I have neither a backroom or a Portal," Magnus said. "Portals are quite difficult to construct and pose no small risk to their owner. Nasty things can come through them if they're not warded properly. The only ones I know of in New York are the one at Dorothea's and the one at Renwick's, but they're both too far away to be worth the bother of trying to get there, even if you were sure their owners would let you use them, which they probably wouldn't. Got that? Now go away."

I removed my hand from the door but Jace's foot still held it solidly open. "One more thing. Is there a holy place around here?"

"Good idea. If you're going to take on a lair of vampires by yourself, you'd better pray first."

"We need weapons," Jace explained shortly. "More than what we've got on us."

"There's a Catholic church down on Diamond Street." He pointed in the general direction. "Will that do?"

Jace nodded and the door slammed. Clary stared at the door, breathing heavily. I took her hand again and led her down the steps, to face whatever it was we were heading towards.

* * *

**Aweeee... Jace and Jaci tag team! Innit that cuuute? **

**Sorry, I'll go back to my little writing corner now.**


	18. The Vorpal Attention Whore

**I am so ridiculously insanely sorry that this took so long. I got distracted. Basically, someone I know told me this story was weak because it was so exactly like the books and I decided I needed to prove myself and started some overly-complicated original story but I came back to this. Anyway, enjoy your vampires. This chapter is terrible and I apologize. -sigh- Fail.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own TMI. Whatever, you've got the idea by now.**

* * *

We walked quickly as an awkward group, Jace leading and me dragging Clary along. It wasn't her fault she was slow, she has short legs. But that didn't make Jace feel the need to walk any slower. By the time we had reached the black fence surrounding the church, Clary was lightly sweating.

"It's locked," she observed.

"I hadn't noticed," I drawled.

Jace drew out his stele as though it were the Vorpal sword. "Let me at it."

Of course. He couldn't avoid a chance to show off so I busied myself with studying the church's steeple. Clary stared at Jace shamelessly. I returned my attention to the attention-whore when I heard the clang of the padlock dropping to the ground.

"As usual, I'm amazingly good at that," Jace said, smirking to himself.

"Congratulations. Can we get going now?" I asked.

"I don't want my best friend to be exsanguinated to death," Clary added.

"Exsanguinated," Jace echoed. "That's a big word."

"And you're a big-" Clary began.

"Tsk tsk," Jace interrupted happily. "No swearing in church."

"We're not _in _church yet," Clary pointed out as we walked up the path.

"Details," Jace dismissed, reaching the door and resting a hand on it. "In the name of the Clave I ask entry to this holy place. In the name of the Battle That Never Ends, I ask the use of your weapons. And in the name of the Angel Raziel, I ask your blessings on my mission against the darkness."

We stood in a reverent silence; the gentle wind swirling around me and making me shiver slightly, despite the heat. Slowly, the heavy door swung open, revealing the dark interior.

"Convenient," I murmured.

Jace bowed dramatically. "Ladies first."

Cautiously, Clary and I stepped through the door. It was dim, the only illumination coming from the moonlight slanting through the windows and a few candles burning. The candles seemed odd to me. Weren't they a fire hazard? Shouldn't they have been extinguished? Beside me, Clary shivered.

"The stone walls keep out the heat," Jace explained.

"It's not that. We've never been in a church before," Clary said.

I opened my mouth to argue that I had, but then I realized she was right. Before Peliel I had been in a church, but not in this life.

"You've been in the Institute."

"I mean in a real church. For services. That sort of thing."

"Really," Jace sounded slightly bored. "Well, this is the nave, where the pews are. It's where people sit during services."

"Because that much we couldn't figure out for ourselves," I said dryly. He fell silent and did not continue his tour guide speech, walking up before the alter and kneeling down. His hands were searching the floor.

"Jace, what are you doing?" Clary whispered.

"Looking for weapons," he responded calmly. "You could make yourself useful and help."

I kicked at the dust on the floor, searching that way because I didn't feel like crawling around in a short dress.

"Where should I look?" Clary asked, looking lost.

"They'd be hidden around the alter. Kept for our use in case of emergencies."

"And this is what, some kind of deal you have with the Catholic church?" Clary asked, moving to look nearer the candles.

"Not specifically," Jace answered, offering nothing else.

"So a deal with all religions," Clary said mostly to herself.

My foot slid over something carved in one of the stones set into the floor. I used the toe of my shoe to clear it off completely. "I found it."

In an instant, Jace had grabbed my ankle and moved it away from the stone, taking out his stele and touching it to the stone which in turn moved aside to reveal a dark compartment. Jace reached in and drew out a wooden box. Clary and I hovered over him, peering to see what was inside as he lifted the lid.

"Nifty," I muttered.

Jace grinned childishly at me.

"What are all these?" Clary asked.

"Vials of holy water, blessed knives, steel and silver blades, electrum wire – not much use at the moment, but it's always good to have spare – silver bullets, charms of protection, crucifixes, stars of David-"

"Jesus," whispered Clary.

Jace's tone was mildly condescending. "I doubt he'd fit."

"_Jace," _Clary hissed.

"Clary, you're the one who swore. I believe he's entitled to his little jokes if he feels so inclined," I said, picking up one of the blessed knives and observing it in the moonlight. It glittered promisingly.

Jace handed me a vial of holy water and slid several knives into his belt. "Still have that dagger I gave you?" he asked Clary.

She nodded mutely.

He got to his feet, shaking his hair out of his eyes, a daredevil smirk on his face. "Then we're ready."

I was glad I was wearing tennis shoes instead of the huge boots Clary was clomping around in. We had been walking around listlessly for almost an hour, searching for the hotel.

"Hey, look," Clary said, pointing to a sign half hidden behind a tree. It bore the words "Hotel Dumort" in fading paint.

"Hotel Dumort," Jace said. "Cute."

"Of death," Clary said softly.

Jace nodded and scanned the street, alert. This was the vampires' lair. My heart was pounding but other than that I felt calm enough.

"But it can't be the hotel," Clary protested. "The windows are all boarded up, and the door's been bricked over-" she cut herself off, blushing. "Right. Vampires."

"They fly," Jace said, pointing up.

"We don't fly," Clary pointed out.

"No, we don't fly," Jace agreed, starting across the street. "We break and enter."

"But if we-" I began but broke off at a sharp glance from Jace. No use frightening Clary more than necessary.

Clary's boots clomped as she rushed to catch up to us. "Flying sounds like more fun."

"Right now everything sounds like more fun," Jace said with a look of grim excitement.

"More fun, but less exciting," I added. I probably had the same look on my face, looking forward to the hell that was coming.

With each step closer to the hotel, our pace slowed until we reached the sidewalk in front of the building. One singular streetlight threw a pool of light in front of the hotel.

"Stay out of the light," Jace warned. "They might be watching from the windows. And don't look up."

Clary looked up and froze, staring.

Jace cast me a look as though it was my fault before seizing Clary by the wrist and dragging her into the shadows. "Come _on_."

We edged around the hotel to an alley at the side, Clary making too much noise in her boots. The alley smelled terrible and I made a choking noise. Small bones littered the ground.

"Dog bones, cat bones," Jace said. "Don't look too closely; going through vampires' trash is rarely a pretty picture."

Poor Clary looked queasy, a few escaped strands of hair clung to her damp face. "Well, at least we know we're in the right place."

"Oh, we're in the right place," Jace assured her before turning to stare up at the hotel. "Now we just have to figure out how to get inside. When this was a hotel they must have gotten their deliveries here. I mean, they wouldn't have brought things up through the front door, and there's no place else for trucks to pull up. So there must be a way in."

"While your logic is impeccable," I said, "I see no door."

Clary piped up then. "I bet the doors are in the ground. Probably buried under all this garbage."

Jace nodded. "I guess we'd better move the trash. We can start with the Dumpster." His fine boned nose wrinkled in disgust.

"You'd rather face a ravening horde of demons, wouldn't you?" Clary asked.

"At least they wouldn't be crawling with maggots," Jace pointed out and moved resolutely over to one side of the Dumpster. "Jaci, take the other side. We'll tip it."

"Tipping it will make too much noise," Clary argued. "You should push it."

"Because pushing it would so much quieter," I said.

"Do you really think you should be doing that?"asked a soft voice from the shadows.

We all froze. Jace recovered first, his hand moved to the hilt of one of the knives in his belt. "Is there someone there?"

"_Dios mío_," the voice said. "You're not from this neighborhood, are you?" A slender boy about a head shorter than Jace moved forward so he could be seen. His skin was a warm honey tone and his eyes were large and dark. The neck of his shirt was open.

_Raphael,_ I told myself. And then, _vampire_. My mind began to work furiously, the beginnings of a plan appearing.

"You could say that," Jace said, still tensed, just in case. I needed to let him know…

"You shouldn't be here," Raphael said, pushing back his dark hair. "This place is dangerous."

"We know," Clary said lightly. "We just got a little lost, that's all."

The Spanish vampire raised one eyebrow. "What were you doing with that?" He pointed to the Dumpster.

Jace looked at the boy evenly. "We were trying to get into the hotel. We thought there might be a cellar door behind the trash bin."

"_Puta madre_ – why would you want to do something like that?" Raphael asked.

"_No debes maldecir_," I said fluently. "It's bad form."

Raphael chuckled softly.

"For a prank," Jace said. "Just a little fun."

Raphael was serious again. "You don't understand. This place is haunted, cursed. Bad luck." He cursed quickly in Spanish for my benefit. "Walk with me, I'll take you to the subway."

"We know where the subway is," Jace said coolly.

"_Claro_," Raphael said with a soft laugh. "Of course you do, but if you go with me, no one will bother you. You do not want trouble, do you?"

I drew the blessed knife I had taken at the church from the sash in my dress and spun it expertly through my fingers. "I think we can handle any trouble."

"How much are they paying you to keep people away from the hotel?" Jace asked suddenly, allowing his jacket to fall open slightly, revealing the weapons he carried.

Raphael glanced behind himself for theatrics. "How much are who paying me, _chico_?"

"The vampires," Jace said bluntly. "How much are they paying you? Or is it something else – did they tell you they'd make you one of them, offer you eternal life, no pain, no sickness, you get to live forever? Because it's not worth it. Life stretches out very long when you never see the sunlight, _chico_." I was one of two people aware he was delivering this speech to a vampire.

"My name is Raphael," said the other person who knew what was going on. "Not _chico_."

"But you know what we're talking about," Clary said, looking slightly doubtful at the same time.

Raphael spat. "_Los vampires, sí_, the blood-drinking animals. Even before the hotel was boarded up, there were stories, the laughter late at night, the small animals disappearing, the sounds-" He stopped for dramatics. "Everyone in this neighborhood knows to stay away, but what can you do? You cannot call the police and tell them your problem if vampires."

"Have you ever seen them?" Jace asked. "Or known anyone who has?"

Raphael nodded gravely. "There were some boys, once, a group of friends. They thought they had a good idea, to go into the hotel and kill the monsters inside. They took guns with them, knives too, all blessed by a priest. They never came out. My aunt, she found their clothes later, in front of the house."

"Your aunt's house?" Jace double checked.

"_Sí_. One of the boys was my brother." Raphael's eyes flickered quickly. I almost thought I'd imagined it. "So now you know why I walk by here in the middle of the night sometimes, on the way home from my aunt's house, and why I warned you away. If you go in there, you will not come out again."

"My friend is in there. We came to get him," Clary said.

"Ah, then perhaps I cannot warn you away." Raphael shook his head sadly.

Jace drew a seraph blade from his belt, the faint glow giving his face a spectral appearance. "No, but don't worry. What happened to your friends won't happen to us. I've killed plenty of vampires before. Their hearts don't beat, but they can still die."

Looking awestruck, Rapheal stumbled towards Jace. I clutched the knife in my hand tighter. Did Jace know Raphael was a vampire? I hoped he did.

"I know what you are," Raphael breathed. "I have heard about your kind, from the old padre at St. Cecilia's. I thought it was just a story."

"Most people think vampires are just stories," I said softly, now standing even with Jace.

"I want to go with you," Raphael said.

"No. Absolutely not."

"_Jace_," I hissed.

He turned to me looking annoyed. "We can't take him."

I closed my eyes briefly. How was I supposed to tell Jace what I knew without Raphael hearing? "Why not? He knows how to get in, he must know something about the place. Let him lead."

Jace's eyes flicked to Raphael fast enough to see the flicker of discontentment on his face before it was replaced with a smile. "All right. Lead the way."

Raphael kicked aside a pile of trash to reveal the metal grating that was there. He lifted it away. "This is how my brother and his friends got in. It goes down to the basement, I think."

"Well it obviously doesn't go up to the attic," I muttered.

Raphael's dark eyes studied me momentarily before turning to Jace. "Will this work?"

"This will work just fine." Jace moved to slide through the grating but I held him back.

"Let Raphael go first," I whispered.

Jace looked startled. "Why?"

_Think of a lie. Think of a lie. Think of a lie. _"He said his brother is in there. His brother will recognize him if we meet any vampires, it could be beneficial for us."

Apparently Jace saw some sort of logic in there and gestured for Raphael to jump through the grating. As soon as Raphael had gone through, landing softly down below, I stood on tip-toe to whisper to Jace. My one possible shot where Raphael would not over hear me. "He's a vampire."

A look of understanding crossed Jace's face.

"It's not bad," Raphael's muffled voice called.

"Not bad?" Jace repeated. "That hardly sounds tempting."

"Come," Raphael said, sounding unhappy.

Jace smiled at the command. "Once I'm down, Clary jump and then Jaci. I'll catch you." Clary nodded and he slid through the grating, landing solidly below us. "All right, Clary."

I held out my hand to steady her and carefully she jumped, disappearing through the grate like the other two. I waited only an instant before I jumped, landing in a crouched position on the concrete floor. Jace stood just a few feet away where he had moved to set Clary down.

"I would have caught you," he said.

"I know."

He shook his head and took out his seraph blade, showing the small, cramped basement. Raphael pointed towards an open doorway. "We must go that way, toward the stairs. They are up on the higher floors of the hotel. You will see."

"Lead on," Jace said with ill grace.

Raphael led up the rotting stairs, moving carefully over the creaking boards. Jace followed him closely, breathing down his neck. Clary came after Jace and I brought up the rear, seraph blade in one hand and blessed knife in the other.

We moved upwards carefully, Clary coughing once.

"Shh," Raphael hissed to her. "They will hear you. We are close to where they sleep."

"How do _you _know?" Clary demanded, keeping her voice low.

"I can feel it." I tried not to snort. "Can't you?"

Eventually, Raphael reached a door labeled Lobby and shouldered it open. The room behind the door was entirely empty. Only bits of molded carpeting clung to the floor here and there like patches of moss. Where there was once a spiral staircase there remained only empty space, the stairs picking up above our heads.

"What do vampires have against stairs?" Clary asked with a stab at sarcasm.

"Nothing," Jace said. "They just don't need to use them."

Raphael looked feverish and like he was about to start bouncing in delight. "It is a way of showing that this place is one of _theirs_."

"Oh really now?" I mused quietly.

"Have you ever actually seen a vampire, Raphael?" Jace asked, head cocked to the side, playing along.

"I know what they look like," Raphael side stepped the question. "They are paler, thinner than human beings, but very strong. They walk like cats and spring with the swiftness of serpents. They are beautiful and terrible. Like this hotel."

"_Anyways_," I said, cutting him off. Simon's time was running out and Clary seemed to have forgotten that fact.

"Where are they?" Clary asked no one in particular. "The vampires, I mean."

"Upstairs, probably. They like to be high up when they sleep, like bats. And it's nearly sunrise," Jace answered her. Clary and Raphael both turned to look up at the same time.

"I think we should go back to the servants' stairs. I feel too exposed out here," Clary whispered.

Jace opened his mouth to argue but never got any words out before a bloodcurdling scream tore through the air. Raphael had vanished. Jace and I glanced at each other and ran towards the arched doorway in the far wall.

A huge ballroom. Melodramatic much? Raphael stood in the center of the room and Clary rushed past us and ran to him.

"Are you all right?" Clary asked, not pausing to think about the fact that he'd moved at an inhuman pace.

"I thought I saw movement in the shadows," he said shakily. "It was nothing."

"Raphael?" Jace asked delicately. The vampire turned to look at him and the Shadowhunter sprang, arm wrapping around Raphael's neck.

"Jace!" Clary hissed.

"Clary, shush!" I said. "He's a vampire."

Raphael's face grew dark. "When did you figure it out?"

"Jaci figured in the alley. I guessed then, but she thought ahead. _I _thought you'd get us inside the hotel, then turn on us. Once we'd trespassed, we'd have been out of the protection of the Covenant. Fair game. But Jaci made you go first. You invited us in. We're still protected." Jace smirked triumphantly. "Then I saw the scar on your throat. I thougth when I first saw that chain that it looked like the sort you'd hang a cross from. And you did, didn't you, when you went out to see your family? What's the scar of a little burn when your kind heal so quickly?"

"Was that all?" Raphael laughed. "My scar?"

"There was a little more to it than that," I said simply.

"It wasn't your brother that went in here looking for monsters and never came out, was it? It was you," Clary breathed, putting together the pieces.

Raphael tried is best to look bored. "You are all very clever. Although not quite clever enough. Look up."

Jace didn't look. "Jaci. What do you see?"

Slowly, I raised my head to the ancient balconies. A crowd was gathered there. "Vampires."

"You called them," Jace said to Raphael. "Didn't you?"

The vampire grinned, showing needle sharp fangs. "Does it matter? There are too many of them, even for you, Wayland."

"There will be no fight," I said calmly, putting away one of my blades. "Not tonight."

Jace did not look happy about that idea. He was itching to kill Raphael. A crowd of vampires were gathering on the marble floor now as well as in the balconies.

"Trust me."

A ripple of laughter ran through the crowd but I simply smiled with a false confidence I did not feel. I prayed desperately that I knew what I was talking about.

"He brought us here and invited us inside. We're still under the protection of the Covenant so if you kill us, the Clave will kill you." My voice carried easily in the echoing hall. The vampires muttered amongst themselves uneasily, debating on whether or not what I said was true.

"What do you want?" asked a blonde vampire with a stake earring.

"You took home an extra person from the warlock's party," I said. "A friend of ours."

The blonde vampire raised his eyebrows. "You're friends with a vampire?"

"He's not a vampire," Clary cut in. "And not a Shadowhunter, either. Just an ordinary human boy."

"We didn't take any human boys home with us from Magnus's party. That would have been a violation of the Covenant just like your being here should be."

Knowing what was coming, I stepped back and let Clary handle the situation.

"He'd been transformed into a rat. A small brown rat," Clary began desperately. "Someone might have though he was a pet, or…"

The vampires did not look amused.

"Let me get this straight," said a girl. "You came here for a _rat_?"

Clary turned to me desperately. I shrugged. She'd picked the words, not me.

"Yes."

In the ensuing silence that followed I spun the blade in my hand nervously. This could end badly yet.

"Do you mean this rat?" a voice offered. A boy with dreadlocks stepped forward clutching a squirming rat in his hands.

"Simon?" Clary whispered. The rat squeaked and began to thrash wildly, trying to break free and get to Clary.

"Man, I thought he was Zeke. I wondered why he was copping such an attitude. I say they can have him, dude. He's already bitten me five times." The boy held Simon out towards Clary and she snatched him, cradling him close to her chest.

"Now," said the girl who had spoken before. "Release Raphael or we'll kill you all."

"We're protected by the Covenant. If you kill us, you'll be subject to the Law-" I began.

"You are on our territory. Trespassers are not protected by the Covenant, you know that," Raphael said.

"You brought us here!" Clary argued. "We didn't trespass."

Raphael grinned boldly. "Technicalities. Besides. You think we do not hear the rumors, the news that is running through Downworl like blood through veins?"

"Really? A blood metaphor?" I muttered.

"Valentine is back," Raphael continued with strength in his voice. "There will be no Accords and no Covenant soon enough."

Jace's grip on the vampire tightened. "Where did you hear that?"

"All Downworld knows it. He paid a warlock to raise a pack of Raveners only a week ago. He has brought his Forsaken to seek the Mortal Cup. When he finds it, there will be no more false peace between us, only war. No Law will prevent me from tearing your heart out on the street, Shadowhunter-"

"Enough!" I ordered, whirling on Raphael. "We have what we came for. We'll be leaving now. You lot will all stay here," I added, turning to the crowd of vampires. "There will be no war tonight."

As though the universe was out to contradict me, at that precise moment the windows exploded like a glass waterfall, cascading down on the vampires. Shock and terror crossed the faces of all the vampires as the great beasts shook glass from their thick fur. Werewolves.

Behind me, both Jace and Raphael cursed.


	19. Jaci Counts to Three

**This chapter is still part of my apology for the almost week long wait. I feel bad. Very very bad. Forgive me?**

**I don't own TMI, if you didn't know by now. All right, that's it. This is my LAST disclaimer, all other disclaimers are to be assumed by the reader.**

* * *

"_Los Niños de la Luna_," Raphael hissed, breaking free of Jace.

Clary and I backed up until we were even with Jace. She held Simon tightly and he squirmed in discomfort. Somehow, I'd managed to get my other blade out again without even noticing. Jace looked confused and like he was annoyed by that fact.

"I thought they hated each other," Clary whispered. "Vampires and werewolves."

"They do," he said grimly. "They never come to each other's lairs. Never. The Covenant forbids it. Something must have happened. This is bad. Very bad."

"How can it be that bad?" Clary asked, voice shaking slightly. That was why I wasn't talking.

"Because we're about to be in the middle of a war," Jace replied, clutching the glowing seraph blade tighter.

"HOW DARE YOU ENTER OUR PLACE!" Raphael bellowed, stepping forwards toward the wolves.

One wolf gave a barking laugh and in one rippling step changed into a tall man. "We didn't come for a blooding. We came for the girls."

"Who?" Raphael demanded, sounding astounded.

"The humans."

My eyes flew wide open. Oh dear. "Crap."

"You didn't tell me you knew any werewolves," Jace muttered out of the corner of his mouth, attempting to mask his surprise with sarcasm.

"I don't," I responded.

"This is bad," he assessed.

"You already said that," Clary pointed out.

"It seemed worth repeating."

"And what good did it do us?" I asked, readjusting my grip on the knife in my left hand. I wasn't left handed. Why the hell did I have a knife in my left hand?

"They're all staring at us," Clary whispered, shrinking behind me.

She was right. The glowing eyes of the wolves along with the dark ones of the vampires were trained on us, or more correctly me seeing as I was blocking Clary. I had no intention of moving either.

"You can't have them," Raphael said silkily. "They are ours."

The man laughed. "I'm glad you said that." In an instant he was a powerful wolf again and launched himself at Raphael. Everywhere, vampires and wolves met head on, filling the air with the sound of tearing flesh.

Jace whistled. "Raphael is really having an exceptionally bad night."

"Good," I snapped, dodging a pair locked in combat.

"What are we going to do?" Clary cried. And then she cried out again in surprise as Simon sprung free and took off for the corner of the room. "Simon! Simon, stop!"

"What is he–?" Jace began, but then shook his head, grabbing Clary and restraining her from chasing after him. "Clary, don't chase the rat. He's fleeing. That's what rats do."

I wanted to smack Jace. He was really be exceptionally dense tonight. "He's _fleeing_!" I reiterated. "Follow the damn rat!"

The other two looked confused but I didn't bother with them. Sprinting as fast as I could in the skirt I was wearing and with all the obstacles in the way, I was the first one over to where Simon was, not hiding, but pawing at the decorative rotting drapes against the wall.

Clary and Jace were just on my heels as I tore the drapery away.

"A door!" Clary exclaimed. "You genius rat!" She swept him up happily.

"A door, eh?" Jace asked. "Well, does it open."

I seized the handle and shook it violently, throwing my weight against it. Nothing.

Jace gently pushed me aside. "Don't hurt yourself," he said and then flung himself against the door. It shook but nothing else happened. He swore colorfully. "My shoulder will never be the same. I expect you to nurse me back to health."

"Just break the door down, will you?" Clary demanded, slightly hysterical.

I glanced behind her to where one massive wolf was baring down on us. "Clary!"

She screamed and Jace rammed into the door once more. I added my weight to his blow this time. The wolf was still coming but then Clary threw her dagger.

It sank into the wolf's side.

The wolf howled but two more were already advancing.

"One, two three!" Jace called. Finally our combined weight broke the door open.

"Third time's the charm," he panted, holding his shoulder. Quickly, he moved to the other side of the door. "Clary, Jaci, come on!"

I darted through the door, Clary half a second behind me, slammed the door behind herself just as the two pursuing wolves thudded against it. She reached for the bolt.

"It's broken," I told her.

"Duck," Jace ordered, taking his steal to the door and locking it with a rune.

"I lost your dagger," Clary said. "I'm sorry."

"It happens," was his only response. "The rune will keep them back, but not for long. We'd better hurry."

I looked up. Our only option was a rickety staircase leading up, the steps not looking trustworthy. "Well," I commented, "at least this pair isn't destroyed."

"You have quite a way of looking on the bright side," Jace commented dryly. "You go first, in case the rune doesn't hold long enough."

"And in case we meet some more lovely vampires at the top?" I asked. "Lovely," I added to myself and put my foot on the first step. It groaned in angry protest and I began to wish Isabelle's shoes made me lighter, not faster. Deciding it probably was a good idea, I started to keep track of landings we passed, figuring they meant what floor we were on even though none of them had doors. We were at the fourth floor when the door gave out.

"They've gotten past the door," Jace assessed somewhere in the dark behind me. "Damn – I thought it would hold for longer."

"Do we run now?" Clary asked quietly.

I didn't wait to hear Jace's response, I took off as fast as I could, taking the stairs two at a time and ignore the threatening sounds from the supports. The fifth landing came and went quickly, and then came the sixth. On this floor there was a door, propped open. A desperate laugh tore from my lips and I flung myself through the door, Jace pushing Clary after me and followed, slamming the door shut. The click of the latch was satisfying.

In relief, I turned my face to the sky.

Wait, sky?

Shit.

We were on the roof.

"This must be how they get in and out," Jace commented, looking around. I noticed for the first time that he was holding himself oddly, one shoulder slightly higher than the other. "They fly up here. Not that that does us much good."

"There might be a fire escape," Clary suggested.

I shook my head. "They seem to hate stairs. Do you really think they'd leave stairs on the outside of their lair?" But we looked anyway and proved me right.

"Now what?" I demanded.

A loud thud from the door drew our attention back to it. It was shaking like mad. A few more minutes, and we were going to have company.

Jace was pacing like a madman. "Think, Wayland, _think!"_

I made my way over to the edge of the roof and looked down. It was a long ways down but I didn't think the fall would kill us… And then I noticed some bricks jutted out unevenly for decoration, just close enough that they could be used for hand holds…

"That's _it_," Jace breathed.

I blinked in surprise. "We're going to climb down the side of the building?"

He looked at me as though I was insane. "_No_. I can't believe I didn't think of it before." And he'd looked at me like I was insane? But seeing as he apparently had a better idea than scaling a building in party clothes, I followed when he ran to the far end of the roof. Clary ran after us, looking dazed.

Jace ran over to a tarp and pulled it back revealing…

"_Motorcycles_?" Clary and I demanded.

Jace grabbed one and swung a leg over. "Get on."

Neither of us moved.

"Are you kidding?" Clary asked.

"You do realize there's three of us?" I questioned.

"Do you even know how to drive that thing?"

"Do you realize there's _three_ of us?" I demanded again.

"Do you have _keys_?"

"Let's see… No; yes; sort of; _yes, Jaci; _I don't need keys. Anymore questions?" He raised one eyebrow. "It runs on demon energies. Now, are you going to get on, or not?"

Quietly, Clary slid onto the bike behind him.

"There's three of us," I felt compelled to point out again.

Jace looked infinitely annoyed. "_I know, Jaci. _You've only told me about ten times. There's room in front of me."

"Hell no."

"It's either that or ride your own."

"Good," he said as I climbed on the bike. "Just don't sit up too tall."

"Not a fan," I glowered, slouching down so he could see over me. I hoped my hair got in his mouth and choked him. That would serve him right. Behind Jace I could dimly hear Clary comforting Simon as Jace started the engine. She yelled something to Jace who yelled something incomprehensible back. Then Clary yelled something in response and the door burst open.

The motorcycle lurched forward, racing towards the edge of the roof. _I will not scream. I will not scream. I _will not _scream_. I had a front row view as we went over the edge, hurtling toward the concrete. Jace whooped behind me and I felt myself shaking.

Then we were hurtling upwards. I realized two things: that my hands were behind my back, clutching the front of Jace's shirt and that my shaking was the jittery laughter I resorted to when I was terrified. I laughed harder. Jace crowed his delight to the sky.

"Magnus said the bikes couldn't fly," I said, loud enough for him to hear me.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see him grinning broadly. "I know!"

"Jace Wayland!" I began.

"What?" He was unable to keep the gleeful tone out of his voice.

"You are _insufferable_!" I shouted, beaming as much as he was.

"You should look down!" he shouted back. "It's awesome!"

"I'll pass." I became aware of Clary's hands between my back and Jace's stomach as they jerked strangly.

"Are you all right?" Jace shouted over his shoulder to her.

I felt her hands move again.

"Clary?" I called.

"Clary are you all right?"

I didn't hear any response and grew nervous but Jace seemed to be relaxed. Then he went ridgid. "Sunrise?" he yelled.

My eyes snapped to the east where the sun was just beginning to peak out. He took the bike to the right and we plunged towards the river, the tires sending up a spray of water. The bike sputtered and Jace swore. The bike barely cleared the narrow bank, skimming over the traffic on the highway. We were heading straight for a crash landing in a supermarket parking lot.

"Hang on to me!" Jace yelled. "Hang on to me, Jaci, and do not let go!"

We hit the asphalt hard, skidding. We might have made it all right if the bike hadn't hit a barking barrier, throwing us off. I felt Clary's arms jerk away from Jace. I was throw away as well, for one terrible instant knowing what it felt like to fly, before hitting the ground again, reflexively rolling to avoid as much damage as possible. I ended up on my stomach, one leg resting on another parking barrier. Jace landed on that leg.

I heard the snap before I felt it, shock protecting me for an instant. The pain hit me in a terrible wave and I fought the nausea.

"Are you all right?" Jace asked, rolling off me and coming around by my head.

"You – just – landed – on – me," I hissed through my clenched jaw, head spinning and stomach heaving. "Does my leg _look_ all right?"

He moved out of my line of vision and I closed my eyes, resting my check on the oily surface of the parking lot.

"It looks broken," he stated. "Badly," he added.

"Fix it."

"Don't you want to see it –?"

"_No_!" I hissed.

He actually chuckled, the bastard, and went to work.


	20. Moonlight Sonata

**All I'm gonna say here is: I got a request for fluff.**

* * *

Hodge was furious when we got back, ranting about Jace while we (Simon being a human again after the cocktail conveniently wore off with the rising of the sun) stood in the foyer, dripping blood and other nasty things. As it turns out, Jace had lied to Hodge about where we were going. Oddly enough, Hodge didn't appreciate that. He also lectured about the Clave and the Law and such. Those parts I didn't pay much attention to. He ended with telling Jace he'd endangered other people and he wasn't going to be able to shrug this incident off.

Hodge frowned in exasperation when Jace pointed out that with his shoulder dislocated, he couldn't shrug much of anything off.

"If only I thought physical pain was actually a deterrent for you. But you'll just spend the next few days in the infirmary with Alec and Isabelle fussing around you. You'll probably even enjoy it."

And with that, Hodge sent the boys off to the Infirmary. Simon, I noticed, was limping and I immediately worried that Clary might have inadvertently hurt him while he was a rat. I didn't have much time to think about it though.

"Jaci broke her leg," Jace told Hodge on his way by. "I used an _iratze _but you still might want to look into it."

"I'm perfectly fine," I argued, desperately wanting to shower, change, and sleep.

Hodge's mouth was a grim line. "Just to be safe."

* * *

"You know, sometimes I hate you," I said to Jace, who was propped up in the bed next to mine. Simon was on the opposite side of the room with Isabelle fluttering over him. Alec had taken up residence on the windowsill and was scowling at me intermittently.

"You don't mean that," Jace said huffily. "Everyone loves me."

"Correction. I _always_ hate you."

"Hate's a strong word," Jace said with an injured air.

"What she means is every time she sees your face she has a particular urge to shake a baby and when she hears your voice she wants to kick puppies," Simon said through gritted teeth as Isabelle got to work cutting one of his shoes off. His foot was extremely swollen.

I smiled. "You have such a way with words, Simon."

"Yes," Jace agreed dryly. "I believe they call it _lying_."

"Simon's the one who lies, is he?" I asked, raising one eyebrow. "You know perfectly well that I'm perfectly fine."

"Do you know what 'fine' means?" Jace shot back.

I blinked. "You've seen that movie?"

I received three very blank stares from three equally confused Shadowhunters.

"I think he was making a lame attempt to flirt with you," Simon stage-whispered. "Not making an Italian Job reference."

"I see…"

An extraordinarily blue glare attacked me from near the window.

"Alec," I said sharply, tired of his acting like he was five. "Did I sprout another eye or something?"

"What?" he asked, surprised.

"I'm asking you if I've recently developed some type of mutation because you seem to have a new habit of staring at me."

"No," he said sulkily, finding something else to study now that I'd called him out on his visionary assaults.

I sighed heavily, already sick of the infirmary, and went to work taking off my shoes. One of the knots was stuck and Isabelle drifted over to help me with it.

"I think most of these stains will come off," she noted offhandedly.

"I don't know about the dress though," I muttered. It was an absolute mess, the sash was almost completely severed in one spot. "I'm sorry."

Isabelle inspected the torn fabric. "I'm over it. It's not like it fit me anyways and it's not like the dress Clary borrowed where I could use it as a shirt."

"Where is Hodge?" Jace demanded, smacking the back of his head against the wall on each word for emphasis.

"Don't do that," Alec scolded. "You're only going to make it worse."

"How would that make it worse? In case you haven't noticed, shoulder and head are two different parts of the body," Jace snapped.

Alec glared at him moodily.

Apparently we were all in a freaking fantastic mood.

Isabelle sighed loftily. "Boys."

"Hey, I'm behaving myself," Simon said.

"Sorry, no one's going to pet you anymore now that you're back to your usual unattractive state," Jace said nastily.

"Oh grow up." I rolled my eyes. "You two might not like each other but you can at least subdue yourselves."

"Please," Isabelle added with a little smirk.

Everyone seemed to be tired of arguing then because silence fell in the infirmary. I settled myself back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling, attempting to will myself to sleep while confined there. No such luck.

"_Quisiera mi iPod_," I sighed.

"Do you have to do that?" Jace demanded irritably.

"Do what?"

"Speak Spanish. It's annoying."

I didn't bother to look at him, he already knew I'd be glaring. "It's a habit. Deal with it."

"Well maybe you can subdue yourself," he said acidly.

"Jace, Jaci. If you two do not stop fighting I will make you soup," Isabelle threatened.

I perked up a bit. "Will it get me out of here?"

"No," Jace said. "It would put you back in here."

"Jace Wayland, I've had just about enough of you," hissed his sister.

But he just grinned broadly. "No one can get enough of me."

"Gah, I can," I said, swinging my legs off the bed. "I'm leaving. I don't care what Hodge says, there's nothing wrong with my leg." After a pause I added, "Anymore."

"How'd you break it?" Isabelle asked.

"_Monsieur __Imbécile_ used me as a landing mat," I said in my best French accent. (My British one is loads better.)

Simon stared at me in horror. "Was _that _what that sound was? I thought turning back into a human made the pop."

I shrugged like it was no big deal while shoving aside the urge to either vomit or shudder at the memory of the ordeal. Just the lightest touch of the stele on my leg had been agony. To keep from screaming, I'd bit on my hand. Somehow I hadn't punctured my skin.

"I'm going to my room. If Hodge doesn't believe that I'm all right, tell him I walked to the subway."

"I walked too," Simon pointed out, "and my foot looks broken."

I glanced over at him. "Eh, you'll be fine. You're tough."

"I thought you were leaving?" Alec asked quietly.

Jace opened his mouth to say something but I spoke before he could. "Of course, my liege." I inclined my head to him to end my overdramatic show on my way out the door.

I ran to my room.

* * *

Someone knocked on the door almost the moment I was out of the bathroom and I sighed heavily, twisting my damp hair up into a messy bun before answering it.

"Look, I'm really not inte – _Alec_?" I stared. I was expecting Jace.

Alec shifted his weight awkwardly, not looking at me. "I need to talk to you."

"All right." I crossed my arms and leaned against the door frame. "Talk."

"I think you should leave. Go home. Both of you."

I felt like someone had just dumped ice water over my head. I didn't even have a home. And wasn't I a Shadowhunter? What gave him, of all people, the right to come and kick me out of the Institute? I had plenty reason to be there.

"No," I said simply, the ice melting away and giving to fury.

"What?" he demanded.

"No," I said with more emphasis. "Just because you're jealous that Jace didn't take you with him to rescue Simon I will not let you act like a spoiled brat. Which you may or may not be. And don't blame me. If you _really _want to find the person to blame, figure out whose fault it was to begin with. Simon wouldn't have needed to be rescued if he wasn't turned into a rat and Simon wouldn't have been turned into a rat if…" I trailed off and let him fill in the blanks. I could tell when he had because his scowl deepened. "Exactly. Now go trot off to your boyfriend and comfort him even though he doesn't need it." I waved my hand like I was shooing a cat. But Alec just glared at me lividly for an instant before he struck.

I rocked back on my heels at the force which the back of his hand collided with my face. Pissed, I raised my eyes to meet his. He looked surprised with himself, not quite believing what he'd just done. I threw myself at him with enough power that he backed out into the hall and into the wall on the other side, my hand on his neck, just below his jaw, forcing his head up.

"If you _ever _touch me again, Alexander Lightwood, I swear, _by the Angel_, that you will regret it."

* * *

**[AN: For effect, you might want to listen to Moonlight Sonata from now until the end of the chapter.]**

He looked like he believed me.

A distinct lack of the ability to sleep eventually led me out of my room. I was honestly not interested in lying in the dark, staring at the wall and thinking about the way Alec had looked. Apparently he had formed his opinion of me at last.

I wandered along until I found myself in the music room where a shining black grand piano sat, keys exposed and fairly begging me over. I trailed my hand over them lightly, feeling how sleek and smooth they were. With one of those unexpected pangs of longing that randomly captured me, I thought of the old upright piano that had been kept, off to the side, in our living room. My brothers had always said it was as ugly as it sounded, and they were mostly right. The keys were cracked and stained, some of them stuck all the time and some of them stuck only when it rained. It needed tuning badly; all of the notes were about a half step flat. But despite all that, despite the fact that it was ancient and broken, I loved playing it. And just when I was standing in front of an exquisite piano, I was thinking about that old thing.

I sat down on the bench and my hands began the familiar pattern of Moonlight Sonata. The quiet melody was soothing and comforting, distracting enough to keep me from think about my life at the moment.

I heard him before I saw him.

"This piano's all right," I said before he had a chance to speak, still playing, "but personally, I prefer white baby grand pianos."

"Have you ever had one?" he asked, standing just within my peripheral vision.

I shook my head, playing the last chords of the piece softly, allowing them to linger for a moment before releasing the pedal and letting them vanish, as though they'd never been. I picked my feet up and spun around on the bench to face Jace. "Have you been sleeping?"

I took in his jeans and gray t-shirt and the dark bruise like shadows under his eyes. Not to mention the actual bruises that were beginning to fade. "No," he answered. "Much like the postal service, demon hunters never sleep."

I smiled weakly, unable to laugh for some reason.

"Did you sleep?" he asked then.

I shook my head.

"You're wearing my pants again," he pointed out.

"They're comfortable."

The corner of his mouth turned up and he sat down next to me. "I know. That's why I want them back."

I summoned a weak chuckle. "So that's why you hunted me down? To get your pants back?"

"No," Jace paused and reached in his pocket. "I have something for you… Wait, no I don't. I left it in my room."

My eyebrows shot up. "Did you really forget it, or is this just a lame excuse to get me in your room?"

He grinned and got to his feet, holding his hand out to me. "Both."

"What if I don't want to go?" I asked, taking his hand anyway.

Taking me by surprise, he pulled me in close, one hand still held mine and the other slid to my waist, as though we were about to begin a dance.

"There's no music," I commented softly.

"Actually," he stepped away, walking over to something he'd brought in that I hadn't noticed before, "there is." He held up my little battery powered dock and iPod. "I went to your room first to see if you were there and I grabbed these."

I gave him a small smile. "Still raiding my stuff, Wayland?"

"Of course," Jace said without looking at me, searching the library on my iPod. "Here we go." He set the dock down and the first gentle notes of Moonlight Sonata began to play. I wondered if he somehow knew I'd taken dance lessons for this song. "You said you dance, let's see it."

I took his outstretched hand.

The dance came to me easily as though it was a daily habit of mine, each turn, each step, I remembered perfectly. And even with a partner who didn't know the part, it worked. Jace's face was solemn as he kept his eyes on me, anticipating my next step and being where I needed him to be.

When the song ended, we did not move, faces inches apart. Ever so slowly, almost so that neither of us seemed to be aware of it, our lips touched.

When we broke apart, we were both breathing heavily.

"Shall we go to my room now, mademoiselle?" he asked, his voice rough.

* * *

**Putting this bit at the end so you don't have to read it if you don't want to but I have another Clary/Jace fanfic and Jaci/Jace fluff is loads easier to write for me. Probably because Jaci and Jace fight over almost everything. Is it weird that that makes fluff easier? It's also more rare in this story so the concentrated doses are better... I think? I don't know. Tell me what you think of my fluff!**


	21. Your Scent is the Rum

**Oh look. I went off and failed at life again and took ages to write this... again. My apologies. Writers block kills. No worries, it didn't kill Jaci, she's still here. Promise.**

**Now I'm going to shamelessly advertise. I started yet another TMI fanfiction because I am just that cool. It's called 1910 and will be... different... So if you're interested in stories set 101 years ago, by all means, read it.**

**Also, I feel like I should address this: Jaci's use of Spanish. She doesn't speak Spanish fluently, she's like a third year student. Not all of her grammar will be correct and I know this and did it on purpose. For example: back with dear old Raphael she tells him in Spanish that he shouldn't swear (no debes maldecir) (literally: You shouldn't swear) she used the personal you form which might not have been appropriate seeing as they weren't on a first name basis yet. All right, Spanish lesson over. Disregard this author's note as I'm sure you do the rest.**

**(I don't own the song Vegas Skies mentioned in the below chapter.)**

* * *

"So what's this random thing in your room about?" I asked as we ran softly through the halls of the Institute, close but not quite touching.

"Your birthday."

"My birthday was Thursday," I pointed out. "It's now Saturday night."

Jace grinned at me, proudly displaying his adorable chipped incisor. "Time is relative. Besides, I never gave you a gift."

"You don't have to," I said flatly.

He raised an eyebrow in response to my tone. "Nobody should get nothing for their birthday."

"I did get something," I pointed out; we had slowed to a walk by this point. "A cat."

"Speaking of, where is that devil beast?" Jace asked, his hand brushed mine lightly.

I tired not to show the burst of adrenaline that gave me. "In my room, sleeping."

Jace grinned and turned to walk backwards in front of me. "Then I am glad we picked my room."

"_We_ picked the room?" I asked with a little giggle.

He leaned against his door, one hand behind him on the doorknob and the other reaching to take my hand. "You came along, didn't you?"

My heart stuttered as his thumb traced the slightly raised scar on the back of my hand. "I guess I did."

"Birthdays should be special," he said, opening the door and pulling me inside. I noticed offhandedly that his room was stark white. No clothes were tossed in a pile on the floor, nothing hung out of the dresser. And the bed was neatly made. He went and sat on the bed, propped in the corner made by the head board and the wall. "My birthday was always the one day my father said I could do or have anything I wanted."

"Anything?" I echoed, standing awkwardly by the door, not sure what I should do.

"Anything," he confirmed.

"Like what?" I asked, finally taking some type of initiative and crossing the room to craw up on the bed next to him. Somehow, I ended up curled next to him, head on his shoulder, his arm around my shoulders, playing with a lock of my hair that was escaping its constraints.

"When I was five, I wanted to take a bath in spaghetti."

I smiled, closing my eyes and attempting to picture a younger version of Jace with tousled blonde curls asking his father to allow him to bathe in pasta but it was hard to concentrate with Jace's collar bone right at my temple. I didn't understand how he could be bony and muscular at the same time. It didn't make sense.

"What kind of sauce?" I asked him.

His chuckle shook my body. "Just the pasta, no sauce."

I made a face and turned to look up at him. "What's the fun in that?"

"It wasn't to eat." He tugged on my hair.

"Hey!" I protested, reaching up to detach his hand. "_Sé amable._"

Suddenly, he had flung me on my back on the bed, crouching over me. "No."

My mouth twisted to a smirk that matched Jace's. "That's hardly polite."

Apparently crouching is overrated because he just flopped on me, squishing me into the bed. "No one said I was polite."

I took a deep breath, glad that even with a human deadweight on my stomach my diaphragm was still functional. Jace seemed to realize he was crushing me then and rolled off, sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked as though he wasn't quite certain of how he'd gotten there.

"It's not here," he said randomly.

My blank stare conveyed all of my thoughts to him.

"It's in the weapons room."

I sat next to him, sort of understanding. "Can it wait for a bit?"

He looked startled but nodded cautiously.

"I want to just talk for a bit."

Jace scoffed at that. "Talk? You have me entirely at your disposal, in a locked room, and you want to talk?"

"Never mind," I said sharply, standing up. "I don't want to talk. Goodnight, Jace."

His arms were around my waist before I had the door completely open. Easily, he picked me up and set me down on the bed, kicking the door shut again. "You want to talk? We'll talk."

I stared up at him. He stood in front of me, arms crossed and looking threatening.

"This isn't an interrogation," I muttered darkly, turning my attention to the patch of floor just to the left of his foot.

"I know," Jace said softly.

The whole situation was weird and bizarre, conflicting but not. Like being with Jace always was. It was enough to drive a girl mildly insane.

"Did you go to school as a kid?" I asked. Then seeing his hesitant expression I added, "I don't mean to pry, I just don't know much about your past."

"I don't know much about your past," he countered. "And no, I didn't go to school."

"Sounds awfully lonely," I said, crossing my legs underneath me as he sat beside me.

"My father was all I needed."

I tried to imagine living life with only Jocelyn. I supposed it wouldn't be too terrible, but in comparison to a life with a sister and friends as well it was a dark alternative. "That still seems so lonely. Who would you talk to about… guy things?" I didn't even know if guys sat around and talked about things like girls did.

Jace chuckled but it was a hollow sound. "Oddly enough, Jaci, my _father _was a guy."

I rolled my eyes. "You know what I meant. But I guess you wouldn't talk all that much about the cute girl you met at school if you didn't go to school and meet cute girls, huh?"

"Who gets a crush when they're seven?"

I shrug. "I've heard it's happened before. Most seven year olds have a best friend, though."

"Did you?" he asks, gold eyes seeing straight to my soul.

I laugh at the crazy idea. "Clary's always been my best friend because she can't get away from me."

"But you can't tell your siblings everything," Jace argued.

"Do you tell Alec everything?" I counter.

"That's different," he dismissed. "We didn't know each other when we were in diapers."

"I don't tell Clary everything," I admit. "I don't tell _anyone _everything, actually."

Jace took my hand in his. I hadn't noticed before how cold my hands were. "You can tell me anything, you know."

"Can I really?" I ask softly, searching his ocher eyes for some sort of proof that might be hidden there.

He put his other hand along my cheek and I automatically leaned into his touch. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world for me. "Of course you can."

I gave him a small smile. "All right."

"So, what deep, dark secrets do you have, just dying to be released into the free world?"

Tons. But I just laugh.

"I'm boring, a mundane. I grew up and went to school. You didn't."

"So what are you saying?" he asked.

"I want to know about your life."

Jace was silent for so long I thought that I'd managed to cross some imaginary line. Again. I saw the muscles in his jaw twitch momentarily. "My father gave me everything; the best education, the best training. We traveled all over the world; London, Saint Petersburg, Egypt. We used to love to travel. I haven't been anywhere since he died. Nowhere but New York."

I sighed and flopped back on the bed, my knuckles striking the wall. I winced slightly. "I've always wanted to go to London."

"Don't hurt yourself," Jace suggests, looking down at me with a smirk. "And you should go sometime."

I laughed. "Yup. Just pack up my bags and head out to London."

"We could do it, you know," he said so softly I thought I imagined the we. But he fell down beside me, body awkwardly half off the bed. "Find a Portal and go."

"That can't be comfortable," I remarked, mind racing to process all this.

Jace glanced at how he was on the bed, as though he just noticed it. "It's not."

I sat up and made a big show of thinking about London. I knew it was just a joke, but still… the thought made me giddy.

"So what do you say?" he asked, moving so he was laying correctly on the bed.

I settled down next to him, burying my face in his neck. His scent overwhelmed me; soap, outside, and just… Jace. "I'll think about it."

I can feel his chest rise and fall as he takes a deep breath. "Your hair smells nice."

"I hope so. I did shower not that long ago."

"Do you remember your father?" Jace asked randomly.

Slowly, I shake my head, my nose trailing across Jace's neck because I forgot how close I was to him. "That's the weird part. I can't remember him at all."

"Well, you were only one when he died. No one can be expected to remember that."

"I know," I said, "I just thought I'd remember _something_. Or maybe have something he gave me. Maybe a picture we were both in. What sort of father doesn't take at least one picture with his kid?"

"Mine?" Jace suggested dryly and immediately I feel bad for what I said.

Then, way off in the distance, a bell tolls the hour solemnly.

"Midnight," he said quietly.

"It's twelve o'clock and I need your attention," I quoted softly.

"What?"

"It's like the alcohol making my head spin," I continued. "Your scent is the rum, the room is a bottle. Keeping me hopeless 'til I wake tomorrow…"

"What is that?" Jace asked.

I pause before I answer, letting the memory of the melody wash over me. "A song. Vegas Skies by the Cab. It's pretty."

He laughed and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tight to his chest. Not so much that I'm crushed just enough so I feel secure. More secure than I've ever felt in my life.

My lips found his and I give up any sort of resistance I've held over myself. I trust him.

His hands explore my back while mine catch hold of his hair, securing his face against mine. His lips are urgent but not frantic. I can hear my heart pounding like it's going to burst. I almost hope it does when I realize I've never been happier, as a Fray or a Flynn, than right there, trapped in Jace's embrace.

When we finally break apart he grins at me. "Damn."

"What?" I asked, studying his eyes again. I may or may not be obsessed with them. Don't judge me.

Then his mouth is on mine again, pulling my lower lip between his teeth and gently biting before letting go. "I hope Alec and Izzy approve."

Alec.

My lovely mood dropped a few notches and I frowned. Jace saw it, of course.

"Izzy and I have never-" he started, misinterpreting my reaction.

"No, that's not it," I said.

"She likes you," he noted, moving me so that he could rest his chin on the top of my head. I felt him kiss my hair. "I don't know _why_, but she does. Clary makes her nervous though."

I laughed. "Isn't it odd how the least intimidating people always seem to be the ones who make everyone jumpy?" My thoughts were on the quiet boy who sulked around, hoping not to be noticed.

"Should we go get your present now, or do you not want it?"

I considered saying no and just staying there. What more could he give me? I internally sneered at my sappiness.

"Let's go."

* * *

We ran lightly down the hall, hands locked together, Jace's thumb drawing patterns on the back of my hand. I was fighting a smile and blushing terribly. I felt silly and young while Jace looked calm and smooth. It made me want to hit him.

"…Clary? Where are you going?" I heard a voice say from just around the corner.

Jace suddenly stopped in front of me and I bumped into him causing him to step forward one more step. We were seen then by Clary and Simon who were in the hall outside her door. Simon looked like he'd just woken up and Clary, who was clutching her drawing pad to her chest, glared at me with such hatred that my words caught in my throat.

"Clary?" I finally manage.

"I _hate _you! Jaci! I hate you!" she screamed, pushing past me and sprinting away, tearing some part of me with her.


	22. Show Me a Sign, A Reason For Me

**The title for this chapter comes from the song Hello World by Amely. If you know the song, you should start mentally singing it after the second line. Or look it up. This chapter is short, but entirely original.**

* * *

Simon looked at me sadly and then turned an accusing glare on Jace before he disappeared back into Clary's room. The door closed with a harsh snap.

"What was that about?" Jace asked quietly in the deafening silence.

"I don't know," I lied. "I should go… find Clary…"

"Do you want me to co-"

"No," I cut him off, dropping his hand and running after my baby sister.

Of course. I was so dumb, why didn't I see it before? She was hardly ever as irritated as she had been recently. Something had been going on and I was just too stupid to realize. Oh Angel, I was terrible. I chased the sound of her footfalls until they came to a stop; in the music room.

Cautiously, I opened the door, peering in. "Clary?"

"Go away, Jaci," came an angry voice from over by the window.

Of course I didn't listen. I let the door fall shut behind me and I crossed the room to where she stood, gazing out the window. The silver light made her fiery curls look oddly metallic and bleached the color from her skin, doing away with her cute smattering of freckles.

"What's wrong?" I asked softly.

Her blazing emerald eyes flashed on me. "What's wrong?" she demanded in a mocking voice. "Nothing's wrong, Jaci. Everything's peachy. Mom's missing, Luke hates us, there are things out there trying to kill us. How could anything possibly be wrong?"

I couldn't stop myself from rolling my eyes. "Oh please. You know perfectly well I'm as stressed about all of this as you are and in case you haven't noticed, you seemed to be happy enough before. None of those things are _my fault, _Clary. If you want to blame someone, blame Valentine."

She laughed bitterly and looked away from me as though I were particularly repulsive. "Sometimes, Jaci, you are so _blind_. You think you understand everyone and like you know all of their secrets with your stupid sarcastic comments and little smirks. You don't know _anything_! Even when it's staring you right in the face."

"So I'm a terrible person because of my atrocious personality?" I laughed dryly. "I already knew that, Clary. I've been told many, many times."

"You aren't even listening to me!" she shrieked, whirling to face me as though she were going to hit me.

I put my nose in the air like the snob I was. "Talk. And I'll listen."

Clary took a deep breath, preparing herself. "I think you should leave the Institute."

The floor lurched, the world spun, my heart froze. _What?_ My sister… my sister telling me to go away, that she didn't want me around.

"Why?" I said unevenly, throat constricting almost too much to talk.

"Because you don't need to be here!" she yelled. "All you do is get in the way! You don't have to tag along everywhere I go anymore, I'm not a kid. I can take care of myself."

"Have you ever thought that maybe this isn't all about you?" I asked quietly.

She ignored me. "All my life you've been there! Do you have any idea how annoying and embarrassing it is when your sister clings to your side like some dog with separation anxiety? You don't take hints, Jaci. Simon and I could walk away without saying a word and you would _still _follow us with some stupid smile plastered on your face."

"I'm sorry my presence is so disagreeable."

She must have heard my hurt tone because she sighed heavily, looking guilty. "It's not just that. Every single boy I've ever thought was cute, they don't even notice me because you are always there."

I was confused. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh come on, Jaci! Look at me! I am nothing. No one _likes _me. I'm doomed to live my life alone forever because I'm always overshadowed by my sister. No one sees me when you're around, no one bothers to look. I mean, who would? I'm just an annoying little red-head and you're a skinny, gorgeous brunette."

"What the hell are you talking about, Clary?" I demanded. "_You _are beautiful. I'm not. People can't stand me because I'm rude and condescending. You're beautiful. You refuse to see it, and you think I just say so because I have to, but you are the most beautiful girl I've ever met. Maybe if you took a moment to really look in a mirror, you'd understand."

Now it was her turn to laugh dryly. "Whatever. It doesn't matter anyways."

I recognized that tone. "Obviously it does. What's this really about?"

"Oh, don't pretend like you don't know."

I did know. I'd seen her reactions, heard the things she said. I'd just wished it wasn't true. "Jace," I said with finality.

Tears were rolling down her face. "I'm supposed to be with him," she whispered quietly. "I don't know why or how I know this but I'm supposed to love him. He doesn't – he _can't_ love me with you here."

"Clary…"

She shied away from my touch as though it burned her. "Just forget I said anything, Jaci. I'm sorry."

* * *

The lack of stars seemed appropriate to me. I'd always loved stars, they had always made me feel truly alive. So the city-bleached sky was fitting. A soft breeze played around my legs and I looked down at the traffic below. The city that never sleeps laying at my feet.

My thoughts had driven me up to the greenhouse, and then out onto the exposed roof of the Institute. In my hands I twirled a sparkling dagger. What was the point? The story worked out perfectly well without me, why did I need to be a part of it? Oh wait, I didn't. I shouldn't be a part of it. Clary and Jace were supposed to be falling in love and I had ruined that. What else was I ruining? Was my presence going to upset something in a delicate balance and change the ending completely? Was Valentine going to win and would it be my fault?

Peliel's words drifted back to me. _Death is the only exit._ He had also said something about coping out early. I wasn't stupid, I know what it meant. Others had been put in worlds they didn't belong in and hadn't been able to take it, claiming their lives to escape back to their past. I pressed the tip of my finger against the point of the dagger until the skin broke and a single drop of blood welled up. It wouldn't be that hard really…

"Peliel," I called out to the sky. "I don't know if you're there… or if you really even care. I don't know if you _ever _cared, actually. You said this was all just a game for you, well what is it for me? Is it a game where nothing really lasts? Is this just some elaborate dream I'm going to forget? I'd like to know."

There was no response, only the sounds of the city around me.

"Do I even have a purpose for being here? Or am I going crazy and this is all there's ever been? Was I ever really Jaelyn Flynn? Have I always been Jaci Fray? If I used to be someone else and I've changed now, what's the point of that past life? What happened to that girl? Did she die? Did she ever exist? Was _she _the dream? It's been a week and I don't know what's real anymore." Opening my eyes made me aware that I'd had them closed. Heavy tears clung desperately to my eyelashes, trying not to fall and be lost forever. If one tear fell off the building, would it ever hit the ground? If I fell, would I ever hit? Or would it be like those dreams where you think you're falling and wake up at the last moment? Would I find out all of this was just my imagination? "Oh, Angels…" I gripped the dagger tighter, the cold hilt solid and real against my palm.

"Show me a sign," I whispered, "a reason for me. All of this time, have I spent it dreaming? Give me somewhere that I'll feel alive." The point of the dagger was now resting against my heart in a friendly manner. I could do it, and I would. "Show me a sign…"

I would go home.


	23. Éponine

**I am queen of short, choppy chapters!**

* * *

Jace was lying on his bed pretending to be asleep – for his own benefit, not anyone else's. His thoughts haunted him and sleep had remained just beyond his reach. He kept going back to the scene he had witnessed from just outside the door between the two sisters. Jaci's broken expression would not leave him. He had known that she would want to be alone and so had allowed her to go when she had swept past him, barely noticing.

He had waited at the steps of the greenhouse for ages and when she had not come down yet, he figured he might as well try to sleep. Jaci would come down eventually and sitting out in the open just made it that much more possible that Alec or Isabelle or Hodge would find him.

At first he had gone to her room, where her crazy cat had been pacing and yowling to wake the dead. But when he had opened the door to let the animal out, Peeta just crawled under the bed and cried. Jace did not necessarily want to spend the night with a crazed cat, and had at length made the decision to go to his own room, where he still was. Jaci had not come looking for him, she probably was tired.

Still, something bothered him. Jaci had looked so hurt.

_She doesn't need protecting_, he told himself sternly and squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to will himself to sleep.

But he was brought back by a frantic banging on his door. Annoying and incessant. Only the thought that it would be Jaci pulled him out of bed to answer it.

The door swung open and there stood Clary and he was immediately irritable. He had heard all of the things that had passed between the girls and he knew where his opinion was.

"Don't tell me," he drawled. "Simon's turned himself into an ocelot and you want me to do something about it before Isabelle makes him into a stole. Well, you'll have to wait 'til tomorrow. I'm out of commission. Look," he gestured to his old t-shirt and sleep pants set, "jammies."

Clary hugged her sketchpad tightly. "Jace, this is important."

Like hell it was. She could wait until he had actually gotten some sleep and talked to Jaci. "Don't tell me," he said again. "You've got a drawing emergency. You need a nude model. Well, I'm not in the mood. You could ask Hodge. I hear he'll do anything for a-"

"JACE! JUST SHUT UP FOR A SECOND AND LISTEN, WILL YOU?" she screamed at him, taking him completely by surprise.

He stared at her, waiting for her to continue.

"Jace, I think I know where my mother hid the Mortal Cup. It's inside a painting."

* * *

The gold paint on the walls reflected the light from the single candle Isabelle had lit on her nightstand. The flickering gave the room a warm sort of feeling and kept her memorized as she stared at the little flame. Something so tiny that could change the entire atmosphere of her room. Fascinating.

The candle flickered almost out of existence at the same moment an animal cry picked up outside the door, accompanied by scratching.

Isabelle crawled out of bed and to the door, knowing she should not have given Church any scraps, now he thought she had more. She opened the door and looked down.

"What the hell?"

Peeta mewed up at her, his tail flicking nervously. The cat looked deranged and Isabelle immediately found the entire situation strange.

"Go to Jaci," she said, gently nudging the cat away from the door with her foot.

He started in the opposite direction of Jaci's room. He went only a few feet before he turned back to Isabelle, waiting. She sighed. "This better be important."

The girl followed the cat through the darkened halls of the Institute. They moved quickly and Isabelle began to feel a sense of urgency as they neared the greenhouse. She expected the cat to stop at the stairs but he began to determinedly pull himself up the metal steps. In order to speed up the process, she scooped Peeta up and climbed the steps quickly, pausing outside the doors to the greenhouse just long enough to curse her allergies. Peeta leaped from her arms and tore off through the plants. She followed.

He led her outside under the thick blanket of the night sky. The city looked pretty, all lit up. But she didn't have time to truly enjoy the view, Peeta was crying and yowling to wake the dead on the far side of the roof. As Isabelle drew closer, she saw exactly what the cat was upset about.

One word escaped her lips at the sight of the dark form, crumpled on the roof. "No!"

* * *

"I don't really see what any of this has to do with us," Alec said, yawning. Jace had woken Hodge and Alec and dragged them to the library to discuss what Clary had showed him, her ability to remove objects from a painting by the use of runes. He had tried to find Isabelle and Jaci as well, but they had mysteriously vanished. "I thought the search for the Cup was in the hands of the Clave now."

"It's just better if we do this ourselves," Jace argued. "Hodge and I already discussed it and that's what we decided." The lack of Isabelle and Jaci was bothering him.

Alec argued right with him. "There are operatives of the Clave in this city right now looking for the Cup. Pass the information on to them and let them get it."

"It's not that simple."

Alec frowned deeply. "It is simple. This has nothing to do with us and everything to do with your – your addiction to danger."

Jace threw himself in a chair and held his head in his hands, frustrated. Clary wanted to go comfort him, but he would just pull away from her like she was a monster.

_I _am _a monster_, she thought, picturing the look on Jaci's face in response to her words. She had tried to apologize, but it had been too little, too late. Jaci had stopped listening. She still was having difficulty believing that she had really said those private thoughts to her sister. But she needed Jaci to leave. Clary did not want another member of her family to get hurt so she had done whatever she could to make Jaci leave. _I hope she forgives me_.

"I don't understand why you're fighting me on this," Jace said through gritted teeth. "Look, Dorothea – the owner of the Sanctuary – doesn't trust the Clave. Hates them, in fact. She does trust us."

"She trusts me," Clary corrected. _And Jaci_, she added mentally. "I don't know about you. I'm not sure she likes you at all."

Jace ignored her. "Come on, Alec. It'll be fun. And think of the glory if we bring the Mortal Cup back to Idris! Our names will never be forgotten." He sounded as though he hardly believed himself.

"I don't care about glory," said Alec stiffly. "I care about not doing anything stupid."

"In this case, however, Jace is right," Hodge spoke up at last. "If the Clave were to come to the Sanctuary, it would be a disaster. Dorothea would flee with the Cup and would probably never be found. No, Jocelyn clearly wanted only one person to be able to find the Cup, and that is Clary, and Clary alone."

"Then let her go alone," Alec said.

Clary stared at him in disbelief. Did he want her to die?

"If you're afraid of a few Forsaken, by all means stay home," Jace said dryly.

"I'm not afraid," Alec scoffed.

"Good. Then there's no problem, is there?" Jace asked. "Now, where are Izzy and Jaci?"

"Waiting at the door for you to finish," Isabelle said, bringing their attention to her.

"Where's Jaci?" Jace asked. Then he took the time to take in her appearance. Her hair was untidy and her eyes were red rimmed as though she had been crying. "Where's Jaci?" he asked again, with more urgency.

Isabelle closed her eyes briefly, gathering herself. "My room."

In an instant, Jace was past her and out the door. Clary stared at the spot where he had been. Slowly, part of her was beginning to accept the facts before her. Jace was in love with Jaci. Just like Simon had confessed to being in love with Clary and like Alec was in love with Jace.

"What's wrong?" Alec asked his sister once he caught sight of her face.

"Jaci."

Clary froze momentarily before springing to her feet. "What happened?"

Isabelle shook her head and sat down in the chair Jace had left vacant. "It was so… I was trying to sleep and Peeta showed up, outside my door. I should have known then… He only likes her, have you noticed that?"

Clary nodded shortly, wishing Isabelle would hurry up with her narrative. Her heart was pounding and a sickening feeling of dread had settled itself in her stomach.

"Well, he was there and I told him to go to her. He didn't. He waited for me to follow him and went to the greenhouse." Isabelle took a deep breath as though recalling the events left her exhausted. "She was on the roof."

"The roof?" Alec repeated.

"The roof," Isabelle affirmed. She met Clary's eyes steadily. "She was lying on there, she looked dead."

Clary gasped.

"She's not dead," Isabelle said to her, but Clary was already gone, racing to Isabelle's room.

The door still stood open when she reached it and looking through she caught sight of Jace, his back turned to her. She moved to enter the room and then saw that in his arms he held Jaci, pale and sleeping. Clary watched, unable to tear away her gaze, as Jace kissed the top of the other girl's head.

"Clary," he said quietly. He knew she was there? "Go call the mundane, we're going to need a car to get the Mortal Cup."

Without a word, Clary left. Jaci was really into theater and had taken Clary along once to see a production of _Les Misérables_. At that moment, Clary knew exactly how Éponine felt.

* * *

**For those of you who don't get the Les Mis reference; Eponine is in love with this guy who's in love with someone else... so she's in the exact same situation as Clary is. Um... yeah.**


	24. And That Is Why I Never Get Hopeful

**I would just like to take the time here to tell you all how much I appreciate your reviews. Usually, I start on projects and they die after chapter five but you lot kept me going. Thank you so insanely much! Also, you deserve a longer chapter for being so patient but... well... I like to be dramatic.**

* * *

"_Are you an idiot?" he screamed._

_I blinked. "Idiot? Aren't you an angel? Shouldn't you be all flowery and nice?"_

_Peliel glared at me with slate-grey eyes. I noticed he was wearing casual clothes, not what I'd expect to see on an angel. "I've been spending a lot of time on earth. It wears off. Now stop trying to change the subject and answer the question, are you an idiot?"_

_I sighed. "Apparently."_

"_Did you really think it would make the story go back to normal if you just disappeared? Sure, you'd go home but you do know that they," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, "would have to deal with your _body_. Death is death, Jaci. Die in this world and, guess what, you're dead in this world. And Clary would blame herself and Jace would blame Clary which is always a great way to start a serious relationship."_

"_I didn't know angels could be sarcastic," I said with some defiance._

_He gave me a grudging smile. "You're lucky I like you, kid. You're in too deep to get out now. The storyline is altered and there's no going back."_

"_Meaning?"_

"_If you leave, Jace won't fall in love with Clary. If you stay, Jace won't fall in love with Clary. You've changed things Jaci, like it or not."_

"_Okay, no leaving. Got it. So you stopped me?"_

_Peliel smiled at me. "No, you stopped you. You slipped, causing you to hit your head on the roof and be knocked unconscious. I took the opportunity to scold you on a few topics."_

"_Oh yes, I slipped on the flat roof when I wasn't moving because _that _makes sense," I said dryly._

_He shrugged. "Maybe you slipped with assistance. But now you need to sleep. Clary knows where the Mortal Cup is and I don't think you want to miss the opportunity to retrieve it._

My head ached and my rib cage felt constricted but I recognized where I was, even with my eyes closed. The scent of a vanilla candle reached me. Susan Flynn, my mother, hated the smell of vanilla. Isabelle loved it. Not to mention the reason my ribs were being crushed was someone's arms. The Flynn family didn't believe in hugging and emotion.

"Jaci…"

My eyes flew open at the sound of his voice and I thought for one crazy moment that maybe Peliel had lied and I really was dead. Completely dead, that is. There was no other explanation for why Jace was there looking so… vulnerable. His face was free of any of his usual guarded expression. I must be dead, and he must be some sort of angel.

"You're awake," he said roughly, burying his face in my hair.

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him closer. My Jace. No touchie. "Yeah."

He pulled out of my embrace and held my wrists in his hands. I frowned at him.

"Don't look at me like that," he said with a small smile tugging at his lips. "I just want to talk with you."

My eyes widened. That sentence never meant good news. He wasn't breaking this off, not when I'd just decided (well, been forced to decide really) that it didn't matter how things were _supposed_ to go. I was honestly doubting wither I could survive my hopes being thusly crushed.

But my fears were calmed and forgotten in their entirety when he pressed his lips to the back of my hand softly. "I heard what Clary said," he announced.

"All of it?" I asked quietly.

Jace nodded solemnly, a few strands of hair falling into his eyes. I wiggled my fingers in a useless attempt to brush them away. "And I have to say, I agree with her."

* * *

**This is how much writing I got accomplished in a week. Spring break, actually. I planned to spend hours writing and possibly finish this this week but my family had other plans. And no, I wasn't on vacation. I was helping out on a farm cleaning out a barn. Try to hide your jealousy please.**

**Anywho, reviews? Please? Don't make me sing...**


	25. Foreshadowing

**So since the *sob* end of Exist is now in sight, I called Jaci up for tea to discuss ideas for future installments. The plan was a total fail, seeing as neither of us can stand to drink tea so we ended up going for coffee instead... but she doesn't really much like that either. After hours of searching for some place to eat, we finally settled on ice cream because everybody loves ice cream. Anywho, she said she's really enjoyed her time here and would love to come back sooo in the near but distant future be on the look out for Endure. **

**Now I'll shut up so you can see what Jace's deal is.**

* * *

"Let," he interjected when he saw my face, "me finish."

I nodded, not trusting my voice. Of course he agreed with her because why on Earth would something work out in my favor? I stared down at the black blanket over my knees.

"Hey," Jace said, releasing my wrists and taking my face in his hands. "Look at me. I agree with her on some points. Actually, only on one point."

"The part where I need to leave?" I asked sullenly.

He thought about it. "Make that three points."

"Her argument only had three points."

"Well then I agree with her completely. First point: You need to leave the Institute. You really do. Not _need _per say, more like _should_." He paused for a second again, checking to make sure I was still looking at him. "No, that's wrong too, dammit. I _want_ you to leave."

I tried my hardest to glare, anger made me less likely to cry. "I'll go pack."

"You're not letting me finish," he pointed out diplomatically. "We're all leaving. Clary's found the Mortal Cup and I think you should come with us to get it, in case we run into any trouble."

"You," I said slowly, "are the most obnoxiously confusing person I know."

"Adorably. I believe the word you want is adorably, not obnoxiously."

I groaned and rolled away from him, covering my face. "Go away."

He pulled me back over to face him, grinning devilishly. "I'm not done yet and I want to see your face for the rest of this."

"Go to hell, Jace." I mumbled.

"I'm all ready on the way," he answered. "Second point: _You _are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. No argument. I mean, really, Jaci. Do you think someone as stunning as myself would spend so much time with anyone less attractive?"

I blushed deeply and tried to hide in my hands but he neatly snagged my wrists again and pulled them away from my face. I squirmed but he was stronger than me.

"Third point: I can't love her with you here because I can't love anyone else."

And he cut off any chance of argument with his lips.

* * *

"Simon should be getting here in about an hour," Clary said, twitching the curtains of the library window and glancing outside, avoiding looking at me.

"Which means now we go eat," Isabelle said, snagging my hand and dragging me out of the library and to the kitchen. Alec and Jace followed along behind and I could feel Jace's eyes on me. It took all of my will power not to glance back at him every few steps or so.

"Please tell me you're not going to try and make pancakes again?" Jace asked Isabelle as we entered the kitchen. "It was terrible enough the last time."

"We don't have time to cook anything," Alec pointed out.

"Cereal then?" I asked hopefully. Cereal is 'mazing.

"In the cupboard," Isabelle said, waving in the most unspecific way possible to a wall nearly filled with cupboards.

I studied the wall, taking in the pristinely painted wooden doors facing me. "That is… um… helpful."

Alec strode purposely over to one of the cupboards, opened it, and tossed me a box he pulled out.

"That is considerably _more_ helpful," I commented, examining this new discovery in a cardboard box. "What _is _this?"

Jace came to see what I was talking about, standing closer than necessary to peer over my shoulder. "Generic something. Hodge doesn't like the actual brands." He pulled it out of my hands.

"Hey!" I protested.

He just shot me his smug, adorable smirk over his shoulder as he got out two bowls. "I happen to be fond of cereal myself."

"Just don't eat it all," Isabelle warned, rummaging through the fridge. "Hodge threw a fit the last time."

"Jace, do you want toast?" Alec asked almost overeagerly.

"No."

Jace's back was turned so he didn't see the crestfallen look Alec had. I saw it, ignored it, and perched on a stool at the island seeing as Jace was fetching my food for me.

Isabelle plopped down beside me holding a container of Greek yogurt in one hand and a jar of Nutella in the other and studying both intensely. "Which one?"

"Definitely the Nutella. It's scrumptious."

"Good choice." She smiled at me. "Alec, you should make me some toast. Do you want some?" she asked me.

I shook my head. "Imma have cereal."

On cue, Jace placed a bowl in front of me.

"Thanks," I said, taking the spoon he offered.

"Eat fast," he advised. "We have to get you weapons."

I almost choked. Oh, right. I was expected to fight and kill stuff, or something. I stared at the rain that was now assaulting the windows and then pushed away my only partially gone breakfast. "I'm suddenly no longer hungry."

Isabelle picked up her last piece of toast and got to her feet. "I think I might have some extra gear you could use. Might be useful."

It was a sensible suggestion so I nodded and followed her to her room. As usual it looked as though it had just been through a hurricane but I was getting used to the disorder. It's not like I was any sort of neat freak or anything. However, it was weird thinking about the earlier serious, heart-to-heart I'd had in her room. Awkward turtle.

"Here," she tossed me a bundle of black clothing. "Those should fit you. You can get dressed in the bathroom then we'll go to the weapons room and make you all armed and dangerous."

"Yay," I said with hokey enthusiasm.

She grinned at me. "It'll be fun."

I raised one eyebrow at her and received for myself a shove towards the bathroom.

"Get changed," Isabelle ordered.

I locked the door behind me and held up the gear to make sure there was enough fabric there. This was Isabelle who had given them to me, no telling what sort of things I should watch out for. But the outfit was just a black shirt and black pants, every stitch accounted for. And it fit, nicely.

I glanced in the mirror and did a double take. The girl that stared back at me with curious hazel eyes was a stranger. She looked dangerous. And badass. Jaelyn Catori never looked either dangerous or badass. Jaci, on the other hand, did. Me gustó.

A sharp rapping on the door brought me back to the current situation. "Hey, are you ready?"

I opened the door and gave her a cautious smile. Isabelle grinned back.

"You look good," she commented. "Very sexy."

Instead of blushing like I felt inclined to, I shot her my favorite cynical smirk instead. "C'mon, don't we have a Mortal Instrument to retrieve or something?"

* * *

Jace and Alec were waiting for us in the weapons room. Alec was holding a quiver of arrows and a bow and studying both carefully while Jace was testing the balance of several seraph blades. He gave me an appraising look when I walked past him to the table at the center of the room.

"You finally look like a Shadowhunter, Catori," he said.

"Catori?" Isabelle echoed curiously, flexing her electrum whip experimentally.

"My middle name," I explained, picking up a seraph blade Jace had set down near-ish me. "What's this one?"

"Abraxos," he answered, placing his hand over mine on the blade and pulling a seraph blade out of his belt and handing it to me. "This one's Ariel. You should take it."

Isabelle laughed at that.

"'Lion of God'," I said with a small smile. "The angel of protection. Worried, Wayland?"

Jace scoffed at the idea and crossed the room. "Worried? I'm never worried."

"He's _always_ worried," Alec said softly, fidgeting with one of his arrows and keeping his eyes trained on Jace. Well, at least I figured it was Jace, because I was looking at Alec who was looking just over my head.

"About everyone else," Isabelle added as she slipped a blessed knife into her boot. "It's convenient. I see you're wearing those shoes I gave you, good choice."

I glanced down at the blue Converse. "Seemed appropriate, what with the runes and all."

"And speaking of runes," Jace said, bringing my attention back to him. "Your present I never had a chance to give you before." He pressed something cool and rounded into my hands.

It was a stele.

It was slightly smaller than the one I'd seen him use, more streamlined and it seemed to fit in my hand perfectly. "But I don't really know any runes."

"You'll learn," he promised me in a quiet voice. "It's in your blood."

Isabelle made a gagging noise and I saw Alec's livid expression just before he turned away. "We should get back to the library."

"We don't have any Marks yet," Isabelle pointed out, pulling out her stele. "And _I'll _help Jaci," she added for Jace's benefit and grabbed my arm, dragging me off away from the boys.

"What was that about?" I asked when she finally released me.

She shot a furtive glance back at Jace. "Look, I know him better than you do and I don't want you to get hurt."

That took me a second to process. "_What_?" Obviously I processed it really well.

Isabelle sighed heavily and shoved my sleeve up and began tracing the stele across my skin. It burned, but pleasantly. "You've seen Jace. He's sexy. Girls love him. Well, not _love, _but you know what I mean-"

"And you think I'm one of those girls," I stated dryly, not amused by her lack of confidence in me. Sure, he was unbelievably good looking but there was so much more to him. More than I had any idea of.

"No," she said to my surprise, "I don't. I'm just warning you that he's _that boy_. It's obvious that he likes you, for now. And if you're just another one of his flings, I _will _kill him. He's different with you around, not so closed off. It's nice for a change. And I like having you around. It's a little weird, but I'm getting used to not being the only girl anymore." Isabelle paused for a moment while she inked a rune onto the inside of my forearm. "I'm glad there's two of us."

"Clary's here too," I pointed out. "That makes three."

"Two of us," she repeated forcefully.

I decided not to argue with her disregard of my sister's gender. I was done defending Clary for awhile. "Izzy?" I asked.

"Hmm?"

I glanced down at the black Marks that laced across my skin, forming intricate patterns I was just beginning to understand. "Thanks."

"No problem."

"Izzy?" I asked again, feeling like a little kid but being unable to avoid it.

"Yeah?"

I thought my question over some. It was something that had bothered me since reading the books. No one had mentioned it, so it wasn't a dumb question, was it? "Are_ parabatai_ always male Shadowhunters? What about the women?"

"The idea of girls being actual warriors is kinda a new thing," she said with a rueful smile. "It sucks but it's the way it is. Girls are supposed to have quilting circles, not fighting partners."

"Oh."

"Are you coming or not?" Alec demanded impatiently from over by the door.

Isabelle finished drawing a last rune on her right arm with a careful left hand. "On our way. We'd hate to keep you waiting. Where's Jace?"

"He went to talk to Hodge about possible glamours that may be on the cup," he said with a scowl to me. Oh right, we weren't friends anymore.

"We're really doing this," Isabelle said with a grin.

Alec sighed and opened the door for us. "That is the plan."

"Eep."

That earned me a couple sidelong glances from the Lightwoods.

"Ignore me?" I suggested.

"I intend to," Alec said as he sharply turned on his heel and walked in the direction of the library.

"He'll get over it," Isabelle assured me.

* * *

"You're messing it up," Alec scolded. "Let me do that."

I glanced over to see who beside me deserved Alec's wrath. Oh, Jace was messing up an _iratze_ on his arm. By now even _I _could make a decent one.

"I'm left-handed," Jace defended himself, catching my mocking glance. Alec and Isabelle had been able to mark their right arms just fine. I didn't see any sense in pointing it out though. "It's a basic _iratze_." Just making himself sound worse. I snickered evilly. "By the Angel, Alec-" Jace hissed.

"I'm trying to be careful," Alec snapped, releasing Jace. "There."

Jace flexed his arm, the muscles rippling under the smooth skin. "Thanks." His head snapped up and his eyes moved to the door of the library. "Clary."

My eyes met those of my sister's briefly before she turned to Jace. "You look ready."

"We are," he answered, gesturing to the lot of us, besides Hodge of course. "Do you still have that dagger I gave you?"

"No. I lost it in the Dumort, remember?" she asked.

I remembered vividly. "You almost killed a werewolf," I pointed out.

Jace looked pleased by that fact and behind him Isabelle laughed.

"I forgot that's what gets you all hot and bothered, Jace," she said whilst rolling her eyes. "Girls killing things."

"I like anyone killing things," he corrected. "Especially me."

I checked the clock that was opposite of my position by the fireplace. "Simon should be getting here soon, shouldn't he?"

Hodge stood from his position seated at his desk. "May the Angel watch over you all," he said solemnly. For the oddest reason, the noon bells reminded me uncomfortably of a death knell.


	26. Expect the Unexpected

The rain had let up considerably by the time we stepped out of the Institute. Clary and Isabelle pulled their hoods over their hair to protect it from the moisture. Since my hair was secured by a hair band and bobby pins, I really didn't care what happened to mine.

"Where is he?" Isabelle demanded of Clary, sounding impatient.

In answer to her question, Simon pulled up to the curb and honked. I cringed slightly at the sight of Eric's van that he had had to borrow. It was gross and yellow with rust spots as accents.

"_That's _the van?" Jace asked. "It looks like a rotting banana."

"That it does," I agreed.

Clary frowned through the rain at where Simon waited. "Let's go."

She led the way to the yellow thing. As we approached, Simon crawled into the back to open the door for us. I'd seen Eric's van before but I'd forgotten the specific details, like how if you didn't sit just right you'd get stabbed by a coil of metal that showed through the gaps in the upholstery.

Isabelle made a face. "Is it safe to sit?"

"Safer than being strapped to the roof," Simon said. "Which is your other option." He nodded by way of greeting to me, ignored Clary, and said "Hey," to Jace and Alec.

"Hey indeed," Jace said with a lifted eyebrow. He held up a bag filled with more weapons. "Where can we put these?"

"The back," Simon answered, crawling out of the van to get the door for him.

With an encouraging look to Isabelle, I cautiously climbed into the belly of the banana and took the seat behind the driver.

"Shotgun!" Clary announced, even though it was obvious no one else was going to sit in the front.

"Where?" Alec demanded, surveying the street wildly.

"Relax," I advised. "She wants to sit in the front. You know, like in pioneer days where the person who sat next to the driver operated a shotgun for safety purposes?"

"Stupid thing to say," he muttered, calming down and settling in in the back with Isabelle.

"That's a nice bow," Simon commented, climbing in and catching sight of it in the mirror.

"Do you know much about archery?" Alec asked doubtfully.

"I did archery at camp. Six years running."

Jace froze, halfway in the van, and stared at Simon in disbelief. I smiled. "Expect the unexpected."

He shook his damp hair out of his face and shot me an analytical glance. "Paradox."

"We should go before it starts pouring again," Simon's voice cut in.

"You are the one driving," I pointed out, reaching for a seatbelt before remembering that there wasn't one.

Then we were moving and Jace twisted around in his seat to face Alec and Isabelle. I figured I should probably pay attention seeing as I was supposedly fighting in the event of demons.

"So what are you expecting to be there?" Isabelle asked like we were discussing a big party.

"My guess is the Forsaken are still upstairs but according to Clary we shouldn't have to go up there," Jace said.

"Assuming Clary's right," mumbled Alec sullenly.

I sighed heavily. "Would it kill you to be civil?"

Jace chuckled at that. I wanted to hit him but I had a strange feeling that that reaction would oddly satisfy his ego complex. Stupid, masochistic Shadowhunter. How could anyone possibly be so irritating?

"Shut up, Jace," I said instead. "What are the chances of Valentine knowing where the cup's located?"

Isabelle's dark eyes met mine steadily. "Let's hope low."

"We'll check with the Sensor," Jace stated. "If the levels are high…"

"We'll go back to the Institute and get more help from the Clave?" Alec suggested logically.

Jace laughed. It wasn't a happy sound. "If the levels are high, we'll know before we go in."

"And die!" I added in a sarcastically bright tone.

My outburst got me a blank look from Alec, a half-smile from Izzy, and a raised eyebrow from Jace. "Glad to see you're confident," he said.

"Well, um, in case you haven't noticed, you lot have sort of _trained _for this sort of thing and I've only _dreamed _about it. Literally."

"What's the difference between reality and dreams, anyways?" Isabelle asked rhetorically.

I frowned and glanced out the window. "For one thing, you can't die in your dreams."

* * *

The sun was shining brilliantly when we pulled up in front of the brownstone that had at one point been the place I called home. Even though it still looked the same from the outside, the entire atmosphere of the place was completely different than what it had been. It made me uneasy and bouncy.

The three legit Shadowhunters had gone to check demon activity levels and I'd stayed by the van with Simon and Clary, seeing no point in _four_ of us crowding around one Sensor.

"Demon activity levels?" Simon asked. "Do they have a device that measures whether the demons inside the house are doing power yoga?"

"No," Clary answered. "The Sensor tells them how powerful the demons are – if there are any demons."

"That _is _useful."

"Funny how that works," I muttered, fidgeting with my new stele.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Clary glance at me quickly before turning back to Simon. "Simon, about last night…"

I took that as the cue to get the hell out of there and strode quickly away after spluttering some stupid excuse. I hadn't gone more than five steps when Jace, Alec, and Isabelle came back to the van.

"Did you need something?" Alec asked.

I blinked. "No, just-"

"All right," Jace called to Clary and Simon. "We've checked all four corners of the house – nothing. Low activity."

"Sorry, but 'nothing' and 'low' are noticeably different," I interjected.

He glared at me with piercing yellow eyes. "Probably just Forsaken, and they might not even bother us unless we try getting into the upstairs apartment."

"And if they do, we'll be ready for them," Isabelle said with a broad grin.

Alec climbed into the van, returning with the canvas bag of deadly devices in hand. "Ready to go. Let's kick some demon butt!"

Jace cast his friend a sidelong glance. "You all right?"

"Fine," Alec said too quickly before tossing his bow into the backseat of the van and selecting a featherstaff. "This is better."

"But the bow…" Isabelle protested uneasily.

"I know what I'm doing, Isabelle."

"One can only hope," I said under my breath. When I get edgy I add random side comments to myself. Knee jerk reaction. And this comment was more directed towards myself. The goal was to get the cup and get out without me accidentally injuring myself on one of the several knives in my belt. Not to mention the two-hand scimitar Isabelle had passed to me.

Jace gently took the thing out of my hands. "_That _one you should probably learn how to use first."

I tried not to sigh with relief.

"I don't like it," Simon announced with a frown and gestured in my general direction.

"That doesn't matter, Simon," I said patiently. "Besides, I'm older than you."

"I still don't like it. And, how come I can see you? What happened to that invisibility magic of yours?"

"You can see us," said Jace, "because you know the truth of what you're looking at."

Simon nodded. "Yeah, I guess I do."

Isabelle glanced up at the sky. "We should get a move on."

Without another word, we started up the walk, Simon staying by the van only after Jace assured him the necessity of a getaway vehicle. Now the only person I had to worry about besides myself was Clary. And Jace, Isabelle, and Alec. No worries then.

The first thing I noticed as we walked in the door was the smell. My stomach tossed uncomfortably and I hissed in disgust. The only one of our group who didn't have a reaction like mine was Jace. He took a deep breath and smiled with a triumphant determination. "Demons have been here. Recently, too."

"They're not still-" Clary ventured to ask.

"No," he said solidly, peering around the dark interior of the building. "We would have sensed it. Still," he added, nodding towards Dorothea's door, "she might have some questions to answer if the Clave hears she's been entertaining demons."

"I doubt the Clave will be too pleased about any of this," Isabelle pointed out. "On balance, she'll probably come out of it better than we do."

"As long as we _come _out of it, I couldn't care less."

Jace chuckled. "Always so optimistic, Jaci."

"Yeah well," I pulled out a seraph blade and gripped it tightly, "that's me. Staying on the friggin' sunny side."

Isabelle swept her damp hair out of her face and glared towards Clary. "What are you waiting for?"

Each step Clary took, I was half a step behind her. My hesitation and nerves were completely forgotten when she reached to knock on Dorothea's door. Around me the Shadowhunter's were still and tense.

Then the door swung open, revealing Madame Dorothea dressed, as usual, in miles of bright colored fabric.

"Clary!" she cried happily, sweeping my sister into a hug. She didn't seem disturbed by the horrid smell and something… something I couldn't remember… Urgh! The book! This was… this was the part where… _Where what?_

"Good lord, girl," Dorothea was saying. "The last time I saw you, you were disappearing through my Portal. Where'd you end up?"

"Williamsburg," Clary gasped once she was released.

"And they say there's no convenient public transportation in Brooklyn. Come in."

We followed her cautiously into the depths of her home. Scented candles were placed around in odd places, adding their aroma to the stench and making it that much worse. Isabelle caught my eye and mimed gagging. I widened my eyes in agreement before perching on the arm of one of the witch's overstuffed armchairs. My eyes immediately lighted on the deck of tarot cards sitting on the table that Jocelyn had painted.

"I take it you haven't located your mother?" Dorothea asked Clary.

"No. But I know who took her."

Dorothea's beady eyes scanned over us all quickly, taking in our positions. Clary sat in the chair next to the one I was using as a seat and Jace was lounging against the back of. Isabelle and Alec and busied themselves with studying the odd little posters on the walls. I was gripping the seraph blade in my hands so tightly that I was guaranteed to have lines on my palms.

"Was it Valentine?" she asked.

"Yes," Clary confirmed.

"I feared as much," the decrepit looking woman said with a sigh. "Do you know what he wants with her?"

"I know she was married to him."

"Love gone wrong." Dorothea shook her head ruefully. "The worst."

Jace scoffed softly behind me.

"What's so funny, boy?"

"What would you know about it?" came his voice from nearer to me than I'd thought. "Love, I mean." He always seemed to be closer than I expected. I wondered briefly if I ever came across that way to him…

"More than you might think," Dorothea said in a regal tone. "Didn't I read your tea leaves, Shadowhunter? Have you fallen in love with the wrong person yet?"

"No, Lady of the Haven," Jace said evenly, "I have not."

Clary looked over at him in confusion briefly. "You must be wondering why we're here, Madame Dorothea."

"Please," she said, "fell free to give me my proper title, as the boy did. You may call me Lady. And I assumed that you came for the pleasure of my company. Was I wrong?"

"I don't have time for the pleasure of anyone's company," Clary said harshly. "I have to help our mother, and to do that there's something we need."

"And what's that?"

"Oh, I think you can guess," I said in a forced bored tone, seraph blade twirling.

Something in her eyes flickered momentarily before her eyebrows arched. "I can honestly say I don't know what you're talking about, little Shadowhunter."

"Mmhmm, sure," I said with my best sarcasm. "Anywho, it's the Mortal Cup. Valentine was under the impression Jocelyn had it, hence the kidnapping."

"Mom-napping," Isabelle corrected offhandedly.

"The Cup of the Angel?" Dorothea echoed in perfect disbelief. "Raziel's Cup, in which he mixed the blood of angels and the blood of men and gave of this mixture to a man to drink, and created the first Shadowhunter?"

Overkill, much?

"That would be the one," said Jace dryly.

"Why on earth would he think she had it? Jocelyn of all people?" the witch demanded, leaning forward angrily. Slowly, almost comically, a look of dawning realization crossed her face. "Because she wasn't Jocelyn Fray at all, of course. She was Jocelyn Fairchild, his wife. The one everyone thought had died. She took the Cup and fled, didn't she?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "That _would _be precisely what Clary has been saying."

The look Dorothea shot me was purely evil. "So, do you know what you're going to do now? Wherever she's hidden it, it can't be easy to find – if you even want it found. Valentine could do terrible things with his hands on that Cup."

"See, we do want it found," I informed her.

"We know where it is," Jace added. "It's only a matter of retrieving it."

"Well, where is it?"

"Take a guess," I suggested.

"It's here," Jace said smugly.

"Here? You mean you have it with you?"

"Not exactly, dear Lady," Jace continued with the smug tone. Ick. "I meant that _you _have it."

"Before you freak out or anything," I added, "you don't, erm, _didn't _know you have it."

Dorothea glared daggers at me. "Explain yourself."

"I can't. Clary's the one who knows where it's at, not me." I held my hands up in surrender.

Clary took a deep breath and began talking. "Our mother hid it here, years ago. She never told you because she didn't want to involve you."

"So she gave it to you disguised in the form of a gift," Jace added helpfully.

The witch blinked once.

I sighed and leaned forward, picking the deck of Marked tarot cards up from the table and fanning them out in my hands. "These. She painted them."

"The cards?" Dorothea asked as though she were checking my sanity.

I held the cards towards Clary and she picked out a card by touch, the Ace of Cups. The same one she had drawn before. Coincidence? I think not.

"Jaci, give me your stele."

Without comment I handed her the thin instrument and watched as she edited the runes on the back of the card. Then, she reached _into _the card, pulling the Cup back out. The blank card turned to ash and fell silently to the floor.

The Cup itself was the size of a wineglass but much more ornate and powerful looking. Don't ask how a cup could appear powerful.

"Somehow," Jace said into the silence that had followed the discovery of the Cup, "I thought it would be bigger."

"It's a perfectly nice size," Clary protested, holding the Cup tightly.

"Oh, it's big enough, but somehow I was expecting something… you know." He held his hands about a foot apart.

"Is that why we couldn't just take it on the subway?" Clary asked.

"It's the Mortal Cup, Jace, not he Mortal Toilet Bowl," Isabelle pointed out. "Are we done now? Can we go?" She sounded annoyed by the anticlimactic turn of events.

Dorothea's eyes were fixed on the Cup when she spoke, "But it's damaged! How did that happen?"

"Damaged?" Clary echoed, glancing at the Cup.

"Here," Dorothea held her hand out, "let me show you."

In the same instant, Jace and I were between her and Clary.

"No offense," Jace said calmly.

"No one touches the Cup except for us," I finished.

Dorothea gazed at us, her irises darkening eerily as we watched. "Now, let's not be hasty-"

"Why do you think we're not giving it to you?" I interrupted smoothly.

She continued as though I hadn't spoken. "Valentine would be displeased if anything were to happen to the Cup."

A quiet sound of metal on metal and suddenly Jace was holding a sword up to Dorothea, the same sword he'd relieved me of. "I don't know what this is about, but we're leaving."

Dorothea smiled manically. "Of course, Shadowhunter. Would you like to use the Portal?" she asked as she backed up.

"_Abraxos_," I muttered, my seraph blade lighting up dangerously. I didn't know what I planned to do with it, but in case…

"Don't touch that," Jace barked, stepping closer to the witch with his sword level to her throat.

The witch laughed and pulled aside the curtains concealing the open Portal behind them.

I remembered then, that thing I'd been daft enough to forget.

Abbadon.

The demon of the abyss.


	27. Of the Abyss

**For those of you who read my other stories, I probably will not update them until I've finished Exist since I'm so close now. Don't worry, it shouldn't be much longer. This will probably be my last chapter for this week, it's midterms again so... Lovely. Wait, all my tests are tomorrow so after that... Maybe I lied. Maybe I'll update Sunday. I don't know.**

**Convince me I should update sooner than planned, lovelies. Your reviews make me feel good about myself ^.^**

* * *

"What is _that?_" Alec said in disbelief.

It looked like a thunderstorm only much, much worse. I stared at it transfixed even as Jace was yelling for everyone to get down. Only when he jerked viciously on my wrist did I respond, dropping to the floor and landing neatly beside him. I kept my head down, remembering the description of the thing taking over Madame Dorothea and not wanting to have to actually witness it. I couldn't avoid hearing it though. Nor could I avoid when something, small and off-white, bounced into my line of vision.

One of her teeth.

There was still blood on the roots.

Oh Angels… and Jace was here… and the others.

"But you said there wasn't much demonic activity – you _said _the levels were low!" Alec shouted, his cheek pressed to the floor.

"They _were _low," Jace growled.

"Your version of low must be different from mine!" Alec snapped back.

I got slowly to my feet, facing the howling and twisted mass that was still part Dorothea and part… demon. "No use lying there, it'll only kill us faster," I said with more courage than I felt. "_Move!_" I shouted to them, shoving Clary behind me and closer to the door.

Heart pounding out a loud rhythm in my ears, I rushed out of the apartment backwards, Abraxos held steadily in my hand. As soon as I was through, Jace slammed the door shut.

"What the hell was that?" Clary panted.

Jace shoved her towards the door that lead outside with an irritated expression on his face. "Stronger than that door."

Isabelle was fighting with the door handle. "It's resistant. Must be a spell-"

"Use your stele!" I encouraged, not ready to sacrifice myself as a battering ram again.

There was no time, anyway. Dorothea's door – no, her entire wall – burst open and _it _began slithering through.

"Alec!"

Jace's shout took my attention away from the thing to the figure in its path, frozen. An unreasonable amount of fear grew in my stomach but before I could do anything, Jace had dragged Alec away just as the demon was fully established in the foyer. With us. Locked in.

"Oh God," I whispered, my nose wrinkled against the smell, "it looks like it has the bubonic plague…" The skin it did have was blackened and corpse like, veins standing out wherever the flesh wasn't completely black. Where the skin wasn't, grey bones were – some with tatters of muscle and tendon still hanging in the worst possible way. The massive skull that served for a head looked blind, but I had a feeling it wasn't.

"Give me the Mortal Cup," it rasped slowly, its eyeless face staring at us all in turn. When it looked at me I felt all hope draining away from me. "Give it to me, and I will let you live."

"Fat chance of that," I muttered under my breath, regaining myself some. Isabelle looked sick beside me and on the other side of me Clary was looking around in panic. Alec seemed to have been turned to stone. And Jace. He looked terrible, but spoke evenly enough.

"What are you?"

"I am Abbadon. I am the Demon of the Abyss. Mine are the empty places between the worlds. Mine is the wind and the howling darkness. I am as unlike those mewling things you call _demons _as an eagle is unlike a fly. You cannot hope to defeat me. Give me the Cup or die."

I jumped as something moved by my foot. It was Isabelle's whip, trembling in her hand. "It's a Greater Demon. Jace, if we-"

"What about Dorothea?" Clary asked, her voice only shaking a little, even if it was higher than normal. "What happened to her?"

Abbadon looked our way again. "She was a vessel only. She opened the Portal and I took possession of her. Her death was swift. Yours will not be." And it began to move towards her.

"Fuck no," I said, seizing my other seraph blade and standing in front of Clary. She was more important than me. She needed to be protected. "Ariel." The blade blazed brilliantly. As I raised it, Jace appeared by my side, holding a sword and an angel blade.

"By the Angel," he said, "I knew Greater Demons were meant to be ugly, but no one ever warned me about the smell."

The demon hissed angrily.

"Down, kitty," I said in a voice perfectly matching Jace's tone.

"I'm not so sure about this wind and howling darkness business," Jace added. "Smells more like landfill to me. You sure you're not from Staten Island?"

Abbadon screeched and lunged towards us, Jace sank his blades into the creature's abdomen and I slashed at its hand but it was useless, it knocked us aside like playthings. Unknown instincts kicked in and I rolled on impact, ending up on my feet, my entire side aching from where the demon had struck. Jace was a few feet away, holding one arm awkwardly. I glanced at Abbadon and saw him being assaulted by Isabelle's whip, momentarily distracted. I took the chance of turning my back on the fight, the two blades in one hand, the other scrambling for my stele as I raced towards Jace. It wasn't anywhere to be found.

"Damn it!" I hissed, looking up at Jace. "Where's your stele?"

For an answer, he shoved me behind him, seraph blade gleaming as Abbadon loomed overhead, ready for the kill. I heard Isabelle scream, whip flashing. It was no use…

Abbadon struck.

I ducked under Jace's arm, throwing Ariel towards the demons face.

But that didn't stop the blow from the demon.

Alec did.

Annoyed by the pain from the Shadowhunter boy's featherstaff, he flung Alec aside with more force than he'd used previously, talons shining.

"ALEC!" Isabelle screamed. Nothing. She began to run to him, but Abbadon knocked her down, where she remained.

"No," I murmured. This couldn't be happening… it just… it just couldn't.

With a terrible grin, Abbadon turned to Clary who was still where she had been. She began backing up the broken stairs, staring up at the monster before her.

"No!" I shouted, sprinting to my sister. _My_ _baby sister._

I rammed into the creature's hand as it reached for her. "Don't touch her!" The other blade I had, Abraxos, followed the same path as its predecessor had – sailing towards the demons face.

It hissed in distaste as the blade embedded in the skin of its cheek and plucked it out, tossing the blade aside.

"Shadowhunter," it snarled. "I shall take pleasure in killing you, in hearing your bones crunch as your friend's did…"

"I'm not fucking dying, you bastard!" I said through clenched teeth, gathering myself, and leaping toward the creature, slamming into its shoulder. I ripped one of Jace's blades out of its chest and sank it into Abbadon's back but once again, it wasn't enough. The demon plucked me from his shoulder and tossed me onto the stairs.

The wood was unforgiving to my body and allowed me to slide down a few steps before the Greater Demon's claws were around my neck, halting my movement.

"Tell them to give me the Cup," it snarled, rancid breath choking me. I could feel its talons barely touching my skin. "Tell them to give it to me and I will let them live."

I took a deep breath. "Clary, don't-"

The door burst open. _Simon!_ A hiss, and the skylight shattered, light pouring on the scene. The demon screamed, trying to stagger into the shadows. Too bad there were no shadows. I watched in fascination as it folded in on itself, returning to its personal Hell.

I stared over at Simon who held Alec's bow. Never before had I felt the urge to hug Simon and kiss his cheek and cry all at the same time.

"Jaci," Clary said, crawling over beside me.

"I'm okay," I assured her, pulling her into the tightest hug I could manage, convincing myself that she was safe. "You?"

"I'm fine," she promised.

I held on for another second before releasing her. "Good. Alec?" I got to my feet and saw Jace and Isabelle crouched over something too still. Moving as fast as I could, I stumbled over to them, falling to my knees beside them.

Jace stared at me in wonderment. "Jaci? I thought…"

"He's still breathing," I commented, gently pulling back the tattered fabric of his shirt to reveal the deep gouges in his chest.

He stirred slightly, gripping Jace's wrist. "Did I… did I kill it?"

"It's dead," Clary said from behind me.

Alec laughed, blood spattering from the action. I wiped it off with my sleeve. "Shh, hold still," I said.

His brilliantly blue eyes met mine. "Do what you have to."

Jace pulled out his stele and set it to Alec's skin and began. The runes vanished as he drew them. "Damn it."

"What's going on?" Isabelle asked shrilly.

"It cut him with its talons, there's demon poison in him," Jace said. "The Marks can't work. Alec, can you hear me?"

Alec didn't respond to his parabatai perhaps for the first time.

"We could take him to the hospital," Simon said, standing over us. "I'll help you carry him to the van. There's Methodist down on Seventh Avenue-"

"No hospitals," Isabelle cut across him. "We need to get him to the Institute."

"They won't know how to treat him in a hospital," Jace explained before Simon could protest. "He's been cut by a Greater Demon. No mundane doctor would know how to heal those wounds."

Simon nodded. "All right. Let's get him to the car."

Together, Jace and Simon carefully lifted Alec to take him out to the waiting van. Isabelle followed them in a state of horror. I followed Clary out, after stopping to pick up the scimitar. I climbed into the van numbly, crouching in the back near Jace, holding Alec's wrist in my hand in order to feel the weak but existent pulse. Jace set his hand on mine, reassuring me.

"Drive fast, mundane," Jace said flatly. "Drive like hell was following you."

* * *

I didn't follow as Jace, Isabelle, and Hodge rushed Alec to the infirmary. Instead, I waited at the stairs for Clary who was still with Simon outside. Sinking down to sit, I let myself give in completely to the emotions that fought inside. I didn't cry, as much as I wanted to. Tears would do no good. I kept hearing the sound of Alec sticking the wall, kept seeing the beast advancing on Clary, kept feeling the talons at my neck. I kept having visions of Isabelle, knocked to the ground and not getting up. And the anguished look of Jace's eyes kept haunting me.

I stood up again when Clary approached and we walked together to the infirmary. Jace was standing beside the door, looking utterly defeated. One glance at him, and Clary went in the room, leaving us alone.

"Is he…?" I couldn't finish the question. Asking if Alec was all right would just be stupid. Asking if he was dying was too much.

"He's lost a lot of blood," Jace said, staring blankly at the floor in front of him. "Demon poisonings are common, but since it was a Greater Demon, Hodge isn't sure if the antidotes he usually employs will be viable."

"No," I whispered in denial. Alec shouldn't be going through this. I had tried. I was expendable. I had tried, but I hadn't been fast enough.

Jace must have heard the self-blame in my voice because his eyes snapped to me. "It's not _your_ fault. It's mine."

I stared at him, his pupils were dilated and his eyes were as black as Isabelle's. "No, it's not."

"Oh, but it is," he said delicately, staring at me as though willing me to blame him. "_Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa._"

"'My fault, my own fault, my most grievous fault,'" I whispered, recognizing the quote.

He nodded stiffly, still staring at me as though he'd never seen me before. I hated the distant look in his eyes.

"I may not believe in sin, but I do feel guilt," he said softly. "We Shadowhunters live by a code, and that code isn't flexible. Honor, fault, penance, those are real to us, and they have nothing to do with religion and everything to do with who we are."

"But none of that makes this _your_ fault," I argued desperately.

"So tell me, if this wasn't my fault, why is it that the first thought in my mind when I saw Abbadon wasn't for my parabatai or my sister but for you?" He rested his hand against the side of my face, eyes blazing. "And then… I thought I'd lost Alec _and _you. You ran to save Clary and…" he trailed off.

I smiled at him as best I could. "And try as I might, I still didn't manage to die."

A sudden movement and I was in his arms, being crushed to his chest. I didn't care that I hurt everywhere and my entire body was in agony from the pressure, I only cared that I was with him. That he was all right. _He was all right_. I held onto him as tightly as I could, just in case he disappeared.

"I can't lose you," Jace murmured, not letting me go. "I can't lose Alec. If he dies, it will be like I killed him. I let my father die, and now I've killed the only brother I ever had."

I backed away from him and took his face in my hands, making him look at me, willing him to believe. "He's not going to die, Jace. You have to trust me. Maybe there's nothing Hodge can do but that's _Hodge_. He's not the only option and I promise you Alec will live. And even if he didn't – which, what I'm going to say doesn't matter because he's going to live – but even if he didn't, there is no possible way that it would be your fault. You didn't make Alec risk his life for you, that was his choice because that's how much you matter to him. And I know that you would do the same for him."

"I _knew _Alec wasn't acting like himself. I knew something was wrong. But all I could think about was you…" He rested his forehead against mine and put his hands on my hips. "_Why _did I take you along?"

"Because," I said quietly, "I wouldn't have let you leave me behind."

"Because you didn't want to risk Clary getting hurt."

"No, actually."

His gold eyes studied me closely. He needed answers. "Why?"

I suddenly felt unreasonably embarrassed and shy and I had a desperate urge to break eye contact and look at anything but Jace looking so vulnerable and broken. "Because I wanted to be sure you didn't get hurt."

"I can take care of myself."

"I know."

"Jaci, I-"

"Ahem."

We both turned to see Hodge and Clary standing by the infirmary door.

"I have done what I can," Hodge said, shaking his head. "He is sedated, not in pain, but… I must contact the Silent Brothers. This is beyond my abilities."

Jace moved away from me but I grabbed his hand. He didn't let go. "How long will it take them to get here?"

"I don't know," Hodge said, walking down the hall. "I'll send Hugo immediately, but the Brothers come at their own discretion."

"But for _this-_" Jace was now dragging me along as he fairly jogged to keep up with Hodge. Clary had fallen behind. "He might die otherwise."

"He might."

When we entered the library, it was dark and smelled a bit damp due to an open window. Hodge lit a lamp and Hugo chirruped at the light.

"It is a pity that you did not retrieve the Cup," Hodge said, gathering a piece of paper and a pen. "It would, I think, bring some comfort to Alec and certainly to his-"

"But I _did _retrieve the Cup," Clary spoke up, sounding shocked. "Didn't you tell him, Jace?"

I felt Jace tense. "There wasn't time – I was bringing Alec upstairs…"

"_You have the Cup_?" I didn't like Hodge's tone one bit. Or the fact that he seemed so in awe.

"Yes," Clary said, taking it out of her sweatshirt pocket and displaying it for Hodge. "I have it here."

Hodge stared at Clary as though he had never seen her before. "That is the Angel's Cup?"

"The one," Jace answered. "It was-"

"Never mind that now," Hodge said, cutting him off easily and moving around the desk towards him. "Jace Wayland, do you know what you've done?"

Jace glanced at me but I was as lost as he was. This statement didn't make sense…

"I'm not sure what you mean," Jace admitted.

"What's going on?" I asked, moving closer to Jace's side and squeezing his hand tighter. I was probably hurting him but I didn't care.

"You look so much like him," Hodge said, ignoring me and studying Jace closely.

"Like who?" Jace demanded, taken aback.

I didn't like this one bit.

"Like your father." Hodge shot a look at the raven who had taken flight and was hovering above us. "_Hugin_." And the thing dove for my sister.

"Clary!" I shouted, attempting to run to her, to save her. But before I could take a step, the world disappeared.


	28. The Poison

**le chapter!**

* * *

I woke up feeling better than I had for ages. I could almost imagine that all of it was a terrible dream and that Clary hadn't found the Cup and that Alec wasn't lying somewhere dying except for when I moved; I ached. The bruises from my less than graceful landing on the stairs at the brownstone were nearly healed which made me wonder how long I had been sleeping. I stretched luxuriously, enjoying the soft, downiness of the bed.

Wait a second.

Where was Jace? Where was I?

I sat straight up, staring around. It was a room I'd never seen before with antique wall paper, plush rugs, and a large canopy bed where I was currently laying, wearing an old fashioned night gown. There was a soft knock at the door and a tall blonde man entered without waiting for my response.

Valentine.

"Ah, Jaelyn. I see you're awake," he said too kindly.

"Don't you dare come near me!" I warned, getting extremely angry seeing him. Why the hell did he have me? What was going on? Where was Jace?

A muscle in his jaw twitched but he kept his expression kindly. "There are clothes for you in the chair, please get dressed and join myself and your brother next door. We're going to have a bit to eat and then leave for home."

I stared at him blankly, for a moment forgetting to be mad and ready to strike. "Erm, _what_? I don't have a brother."

Valentine chuckled amiably which made me hate him more. "Of course, I should have said this first. There's no way you could know. I'm your father. Jonathan is my son."

My eyebrows shot up. "Oh really? Didn't you _kill_ his father?" I demanded, being brasher than I'd ever been in my life. Some little alarm was going off in my head that this man was crazy and making him mad would just make him kill me faster but I ignored it. I would take my chances.

Valentine's handsome face turned downcast and he gazed sadly at the floor. When he spoke, his voice was gentle and soothing, "It was a terrible misunderstanding, Jaelyn, I don't expect you to understand it. But now we have the family back together again."

I scoffed and got to my feet, automatically reaching for a seraph blade at my belt but obviously not finding either belt or weapon. "Where's my stuff?"

"Being cleaned."

"Likely story. Now, if you don't mind, please excuse me. Father or not, I'm not changing in front of you."

Again the muscle twitch but he smiled over it. "You have such a strong streak in you." I assumed he was trying to sound proud, but it came out strained. "Please hurry, Jaelyn. I'd like to speak with you over diner. When your mother took you and your sister from me I feel like I lost so much."

"Mmhmm," I hummed, not having heard a thing he said.

The door closed with an audible snap behind him and I immediately tore off the nightgown, disgusted by it and the man who had given it to me. Unfortunately, I had to wear the clothes he had given me because mine were nowhere to be found. I pulled on the white, flowy dress with a look of distaste. So impractical. I would rip the delicate material trying to get out of here, wherever "here" was.

Once I was dressed, I looked out the window, thinking furiously. I was on the second floor of some fortress-like building and dark shapes were milling around far below. Opening the window just an inch, I could smell them. The scent of rot and death floated to me on the gentle breeze and I slammed the window shut, gagging.

So Valentine had Forsaken patrolling his hide out place thing. Not cool. And very detrimental to escape attempts.

I sat down on the bed and thought about the things he had said to me in his brief visit. He had called Jace, Jonathan, my brother.

Shudder.

Please God, no.

Not possible.

And I mean, literally, not possible. Clary and Jace were a little over a year apart. If they were siblings, it was physically impossible for me to have been born between them. Babies aren't born in six months unless they're premature and premature babies don't weigh seven pounds when they're born. Not to mention that light hair is a recessive trait, a trait which both Jocelyn and Valentine had. My hair was brown, dominant.

So why had Valentine pretended I was his daughter? Jace wouldn't believe it.

Or would he?

The thought of Jace thinking I was his _sister_ made me sick to my stomach.

I had to see Jace, immediately. Before Valentine was there to calmly and irritatingly say I was confused and that I would settle down and we could all be happy again.

With one last glance out the window at the distant Forsaken, I went out into the hall and into the adjoining room. Jace was there. His back was to me and he was wearing a shirt of the same material as my dress. He stood gazing out the window and there was something terribly fragile about his posture. I tried to convince myself I was imagining it, but there was no way I could imagine Jace looking like that.

"Did you hear?" he said, apparently seeing my reflection in the window. "Did he tell you-" his voice broke there and he rested his head against the window.

Cautiously I walked up to stand beside him. "Yeah. He told me. Jace? How old are you?"

He looked at me with bewildered and anguished eyes. "I'm seventeen. Jaci, this hardly-"

"Matters?" I finished for him, studying his reflection in the dark windowpane. "It does, Jace. Seventeen and what, a half?"

"About," he said slowly.

I could just come out and tell him, but I wanted him to come to the conclusion himself. He might not believe me otherwise. "I just turned seventeen. You've know what Jocelyn looks like, right?"

Jace nodded stiffly. "She's here. Downstairs, sleeping."

That took me by surprise. "Really?"

"Yes." His clipped tone reminded me of my purpose.

"So you know what she looks like. Red haired. Recessive trait. And Valentine's blonde, also a recessive trait."

"Look," he said angrily, glaring at me. "I don't really care about genetics right now, Jaci…" Then he got it.

I nodded and smiled slightly at him. "Yeah."

"Jaelyn," said a harsh voice near the door.

We both spun around to face Valentine who couldn't quite hid his livid look fast enough. _He knows I figured it out and that I told Jace…_

"Thank you for joining us," he said in a much more pleasant tone. "Come, Jonathan, Jaelyn, you both must be quite hungry after taking on a Greater Demon."

Jace meekly sat down at the lavish table on Valentine's right side. I reluctantly went and sat on his left. The creep smiled at me with his perfect teeth set in his too pale face.

I refused to eat and sat glaring at the man who had emotionally abused Jace as a child, who had planned to kill hundreds of human children to build an army, who had tried to eradicate the entirety of Downworlders.

"Jaelyn, are you ill?" Valentine asked with false paternal concern.

"Maybe a little."

He nodded gravely. "Then you should eat something."

I opened my mouth to snap at him but Jace shushed me with a kick to the ankle. When I glanced at him, he wasn't looking at me, but was concentrating steadily on the cut of meat he was eating. Apparently the food was safe to eat… and I was hungry… I picked up my fork and stabbed one of the strawberries that were on my plate and popped it in my mouth.

I didn't catch Valentine's smile until I'd swallowed the strawberry. It had been delicious, just the perfect ripeness. I went to get another one, but my fork slipped from my grasp and landed on the plate with a clatter. I tried to reach for it, but my hand wouldn't move from its position on the table.

"Feel better, Jaelyn?" Valentine asked.

My eyes were the only part of me that still responded and I stared at him. I was drugged, completely immobile. I couldn't talk, couldn't protest, couldn't get away. No. No, no, no, no, no.

Just then, someone, I couldn't see who because of the lack of the ability to move, spoke from near the doorway.

"There are wolves outside, sir."

I could see Valentine's malicious smile. "My dear friend, Lucian, has decided to pay us a visit. Jonathan," he paused to smile at me, "Jaelyn, stay here. This won't take long to settle and we'll be back home in Idris soon." And with that he swept out of the room.

The moment he was gone, Jace got to his feet and crossed to the window, standing next to the large gilded mirror and gazing out. I could just barely see him.

"Werewolves," he announces. "The Forsaken are holding them back, don't worry."

I wasn't worried for us, I was worried for _them_. If wolves came in here then maybe by chance one of them would carry me off. Sure, I might have some nasty scars, but I would be away from this madness.

"Is there a particular reason why you no suddenly refuse to talk to me?" Jace asked, his voice hard. Any sort of trust he had had was shattered. He was losing faith in me and I couldn't reassure him. "Jaci?"

He waited for me to respond but of course I didn't.

"They're right up at the doors," he commented casually. "It would seem we'll have company soon."

Without thinking, I attempted to nod. My head moved just a fraction, but it was better than it had been before. Was the drug wearing off? Maybe I would be able to walk… in an hour or two.

"Not interested in that, either?" he asked with just a hint of his usual self showing through. "I fear this will be a very dull conversation then."

I tried to force a laugh but that didn't work. None of my voluntary muscles were responding and Jace had no way of knowing this.

He stopped talking to me, thinking I was ignoring him, and continued to watch the battle through the window. I began to wonder if he wished he could be part of it, out in the fray, killing Forsaken like he'd been trained instead of sitting and watching Forsaken kill for his sake. I also began to reflect. So many what if questions popped into my brain. What if the reason I had the books were so that I could show Jace? What if he had read the books, and knew that Valentine wasn't his father and that he was evil? Would this be the end of Valentine's reign, if Jace knew the truth now? Wouldn't that be nice…

"Jace?" a voice as familiar as my own asked.

My eyes moved to futilely try to see my sister. Clary was here! Why was Clary here? Who cares, Clary was here! That was a good sign, right? The fact that my memories of the events of the books came and went mildly worried me.

"Jace!" she repeated. I heard her cross the room before I saw her standing by Jace. "Where's Jaci?"

"Clary," he said in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

"I came for you," she answered quickly. "Where's Jaci?"

"You shouldn't have come," he said, stepping away from her. "She's at the table. And God, you're an idiot. Do you ever think?"

"I was thinking," Clary protested. "I was thinking about my sister."

I heard Jace sigh. "If anything had happened to you, she would have been destroyed. How did you find us?"

"Luke," she replied, looking around the room. "I came with Luke. To rescue you both. Where is she?"

"I told you. So those are – you came with the wolf clan?"

"Luke's. He's a werewolf and-"

"I know," Jace cut her off. "I should have guessed – the manacles. Where is he?"

Where indeed? Luke would be nice to see right about now. Maybe he would realize that I was drugged, captured, held against my will.

"Downtsairs. He killed Blackwell. I camp up to look-" Clary started.

"He's going to have to call them off."

There was a pause. "What?"

"Luke," Jace explained patiently. "He's going to have to call off his pack. There's been a misunderstanding."

"What? You and Jaci kidnapped each other?" she tried for sarcasm. "Come on, Jace. Let's get Jaci and leave." I saw her tug at his arm but he didn't move. "Are those your clothes? And – you're all bandaged up… Valentine seems to be taking awfully good care of you."

"My father gave me these clothes," Jace said simply.

"Jace," Clary said cautiously, "your father is dead."

"No. I thought he was, but he isn't. It's all been a mistake."

"A bloody massive mistake," I tried to mutter sarcastically but all that came out was a puff of air. Improvement, but not enough.

"I've seen my father," Jace continued. "I've talked to him. He gave me this shirt. My father isn't dead. Valentine didn't kill him. Hodge lied to me. All those years I thought he was dead, but he wasn't."

"Well, then we'll take your father with us. We have to go, Jace. We have to find Jaci."

Behind me, someone opened the door. It had to be Valentine returning which meant this was a now or never moment. With some unprecedented will power, I got to my feet and quickly walked over towards Clary and Jace, head spinning. But apparently the drug was designed to give false feelings of hope, just as I went to speak, to talk to my sister, an overwhelming wave of darkness enveloped me and I fell, unaware of the world around me for the second time.


	29. Saved

Jace caught her the moment she fell. Some part of Clary felt hurt to see him holding Jaci so carefully when he would not even give her a second glance.

"Jaci?" Jace asked, shaking her a little.

"Your sister is tired, son, this is what happens when people overexert themselves. I am sure she will recover soon enough," Valentine said, calling Clary's attention to him fully for the first time. He was tall and strong which contradicted his delicate pale looks.

"Sister?" Clary echoed, looking from Jace to Jaci.

Jace had Jaci cradled in his arms in a particularly non-sibling way. Clary gripped the dagger in her hand tighter. This had not been what she was expecting. She had thought her and Luke would charge in, break Jace, Jaci, and Jocelyn free, and get out. Possibly recovering the Mortal Cup in the meanwhile. What she was not expecting was a defeated, timid Jace holding an apparently drugged Jaci with Jocelyn chained to a bed on the floor below.

"Son, would you care to tell me who this is?" Valentine asked silkily, eyes sliding over Clary. "One of the Lightwood children, perhaps?"

"No," Jace said with a look at Clary, calculating. "This is Clary. Clarissa Fray. She's a friend of mine. She's my sister?" he added the last part as a question.

Valentine ignored it. "Where did you come by that blade, young lady?" he asked with amusement.

Clary held her head up defiantly. "Jace gave it to me."

"Of course he did," said Valentine with a smile. "May I see it?"

"No!"

Jace shifted Jaci's body so that he had a free hand to pluck the dagger from Clary's fingertips with ease. Carrying both the girl and the weapon, he handed it to Valentine. "Here you go, Father."

Valentine took the dagger in his hands and studied it closely. "This is a _kindjal_, a Circassian dagger. This particular one used to be one of a matched pair. Here, see the star of the Morgensterns, carved into the blade. I'm surprised the Lightwoods never noticed it."

"I never showed it to them," Jace said. "They let me have my own private things. They didn't pry."

"Of course they didn't." Valentine handed the blade back to Jace who took it awkwardly. "They thought you were Michael Wayland's son."

Jace was trying his best to put the dagger in his belt but Clary was worried that he might injure Jaci in the process. "So did I," he said softly, still struggling.

"Give Jaelyn to me," Valentine ordered, holding his arms out to take the girl.

"No!" Clary shouted. He was not going to take her sister.

But Jace just backed away from his father. "No, it's all right. I've got her."

Valentine nodded. Clary thought she saw a terrible flash of pure anger in his eyes, but she had no way of being certain. "Perhaps," Valentine said, "it would be a good idea for you to sit down now, Clary?"

"No."

"As you like." Valentine sank into the chair at the head of the table but neither Jace nor Clary moved to sit as well. Valentine raised his eyebrows at Jace, but Jace did not move. Clary found it oddly reassuring that he was so protective of her sister, even if he seemed to trust Valentine. "You are going to be hearing some things that might make you wish you had taken a chair."

"I'll let you know if that happens," she informed Valentine. If Jace could stand while holding a person, Clary could stand.

"Very well," Valentine said with an unhappy glance at Jace who was standing still as a statue.

Clary glanced and Jaci and saw her hair – which had fallen over her face – flutter with her breathing. Clary wanted to brush it away like her mother would when one of them was sick but she did not dare try to touch Jaci with Jace as her protector at the moment.

"Clary," Valentine said, testing the name. "Short for Clarissa? Not a name I would have chosen."

"I don't really care what you would have chosen," Clary responded. Father or not, this many had not raised her.

"I am sure that you don't," Valentine replied with a calculating smile."

"You're not Jace's father," Clary said boldly, in denial. "His father was Michael Wayland. He had the Wayland ring-"

"Ah yes," Valentine cut her off, glancing at the ring on Jace's hand. "The ring. Funny, isn't it, how an M worn upside down resembles a W? Of course, if you'd bothered to think about it, you'd probably have thought it strange that the symbol of the Wayland family would be a falling star. But not at all strange that it would be the symbol of the Morgensterns."

Clary blinked, processing. "I have no idea what you mean."

Valentine sighed tragically, his large hands forming a peak before his face. "I forget how regrettably lax mundane education is. Morgenstern means 'morning star.' As in 'How are thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! How art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations!'"

Clary swallowed her fear. "You mean Satan."

"Or any great power lost out of a refusal to serve," he said benignly. "As mine was."

"That was all your fault!"

There was a movement beside her as Jace gently set Jaci down on the floor, pulling her hair away from her face tenderly before looking to Clary. "Just listen to him, will you? It's not like you thought. Hodge lied to us."

Clary was bristling. _Why won't he see?_ "I know," she said. "He betrayed us to Valentine. He was Valentine's pawn."

Jace shook his head sadly, sitting next to Jaci's still form and fidgeting nervously with her hand. "No. No, Hodge was the one who wanted the Mortal Cup all along. He was the one who sent the Raveners after our mother. My father – Valentine only found out about it afterward, and came to stop him. He brought your- our mother here to heal her, not hurt her."

"And you believe that crap?" Clary demanded. If Jaci was awake then she could set him straight. Jace always listened to Jaci. "Jaci doesn't just faint, Jace. What happened to her?"

"Clarissa, your sister has been through a lot today. It's only to be expected," Valentine said calmly.

But Clary knew she was finally getting through to Jace.

"Father…" Jace began cautiously, not taking his eyes off Jaci.

"He's _not your father_!" Clary hissed.

Any progress she had been making abruptly vanished. "Why are you so determined not to believe us?"

"Because she loves you," said Valentine; simply and terribly.

Jace blinked and looked up at Clary who was blushing miserably.

"What?"

"She loves you," Valentine repeated in that same terrible tone. Clary desperately wanted to die. Not only did Jace know how she felt but he also now knew that they were _siblings._ She could not bear to see him look at her with disgust.

"Clary?" Jace asked cautiously. He had heard everything she had said to Jaci but he had thought it was just a crush but to hear Valentine say… He did not know what to think and when Clary did not answer, he turned his attention back to Jaci. Clary was right, Jaci had still been conscious after being stung by a Ravener. Jaci was the one who had broken her leg without crying. A Jaci who fainted from overexertion did not exist. A Jaci who coldly ignored him did not exist either, now that he thought about it. "Father," Jace said in a calculating tone, still studying the silent girl.

"Yes, Jonathan?"

"Why," he asked coldly, "is Jaelyn not waking up?"

"We've been over this, Jonathan," Valentine said with patience. "She simply is not trained for the life of a Shadowhunter. She has low endurance. She is not as strong as we are."

"That's not true."

"What was that?"

"I said, that's not true," Jace repeated in a stronger voice. "And she's not your daughter."

A look of rage crossed Valentine's face but he suppressed it. "Now why would you suggest a think like that?" He paused dreadfully. "Is it because you love her?"

Jace did not answer and kept telling himself that Jaci was not his sister. She had said so herself, giving proof. Genetics and time could not be dismissed. Valentine had to be mistaken.

"I'm sorry, Jona-"

"She's not his sister," Clary spoke up suddenly, cutting Valentine off. "She was adopted by my mother, and you know it."

"A child of my wife's is a child of mine," Valentine said with a wave of his hand, as though dismissing the fact that he had overlooked that Jaci was not actually a blood relative.

Two things became painfully obvious to Jace. The first was that Valentine had lied to him to at least some extent. The second was that Valentine had poisoned Jaci. He was filled with rage towards the man he called father, but he kept it in check, maybe he would explain. Maybe there was a reason for all of this.

"Fate has borne us to this convergence. Our family, together again," Valentine continued on. "We can use the Portal. Go to Idris. Back to the manor house."

Jace forced himself to nod, not allowing his father to see the doubt.

"We'll be together there, as we should be."

"Lovely," said a sarcastic voice. "Your comatose wife, shell-shocked son, and your daughter who hates your guts. Not to mention the adopted daughter you poisoned. I think we'll get along great, don't you? Why don't we leave right this bloody moment? Why wait around until I can walk again?" It was Jaci, coming to.

"_Jaci_," Clary breathed in relief, dropping beside her sister and clutching the hand Jace did not have possession of. "We're not going anywhere with you, and neither is our mother," she added with a glare to Valentine.

"Jocelyn hardly counts as Jaelyn's mothe-"

A large crash that shook the hospital stopped Valentine mid-sentence.

* * *

I'd regained my sense of hearing when Valentine had been calling me weak, saying my endurance was low. Maybe his criticism had made me mad enough to fight his freaking poison but Peliel's extra blood probably had more to do with it. My eyes had opened not long after and I became aware that I was lying on the floor with Jace holding my hand and Clary standing nearby. The moment I could, I'd interjected my thoughts into the conversation and gotten my hand nearly crushed by Jace who apparently wasn't aware of my livelihood.

"Father, they're-"

"They're on their way," Valentine said. I saw him as he stood up and moved towards the door.

"Who's on their way?" I asked Clary.

She looked at me with wide, shining eyes. "Luke."

"Help me up," I ordered them. If someone was coming to burst into the room it seemed like a good idea to meet it whilst on my feet.

"But-" Jace protested.

"Help me up," I insisted.

As they got me to my feet, I felt the wave of unawareness come up, but I fought back and stayed conscious. My eyes focused just in time to see the door flung open and there was Luke, standing on the threshold dripping blood.

"Luke!" Clary cried, running to him. I wanted to follow her, but Jace's arm kept me pinned to his side.

I saw Luke hug her back before carefully detatching her. "I'm all over blood," he explained. "Don't worry – it isn't mine."

"Then whose is it?" Valentine asked, watching Clary and Luke closely.

"Pangborn's."

Valentine feigned a look of pain and I almost growled at him. "I see. Did you tear out his throat with your teeth?"

"Actually, I killed him with this," Luke said, holding up a blue-hilted dagger that looked oddly like the one Jace had given Clary. "Do you remember it?"

The Jaw Twitch of Anger. "I do."

"You handed it to me seventeen years ago and told me to end my life with it," Luke continued closely. "And I nearly did."

"Do you expect me to deny it?" The award winning actor made his voice sound pained. I let out a hiss and Jace shook me to be quiet. "I tried to save you from yourself, Lucian. I made a grave mistake. If only I'd had the strength to kill you myself, you could have died a man."

"Like you?" Luke demanded in a bitter tone. "A man who chains his unconscious wife to a bed in the hopes of torturing her for information when she wakes up? That's your _bravery_?"

Jaw twitch. "I didn't torture her. She is chained for her own protection."

"Oh yes," I added. "That makes perfect sense. Whenever I'm afraid of something, I chain myself to a bed for _protection_."

"Jaci," Luke said in a warning tone.

"Jaelyn is still recovering," Valentine said without looking at me. "She is not aware of the things she says."

"Did you know that when people lie they tend to use less contractions because they think it'll make them sound more sincere?" I asked.

"Shush," Jace muttered quietly.

Valentine ignored me like what he does when he knows he's wrong. "I loved her. I never would have hurt her. It was you who turned her against me."

"She didn't need me to turn her against you. She learned to hate you on her own," Luke said with a laugh.

"That is a _lie_!" Valentine roared, drawing the sword from his sheath and leveling it at Luke's heart.

"No!"

Jace took a step forward, bringing me with him. "Father-"

"Jonathan, _be silent_!" Valentine shouted.

"_Jonathan_?" Luke whispered, staring at Jace in amazement.

"Don't you call me that," Jace said, eyes flashing. "I'll kill you myself if you call me that."

He had threatened Luke? I pushed away from him and stood a couple feet apart.

"Your mother would be proud."

"I don't have a mother," Jace said harshly. "The woman who gave birth to me walked away from me before I learned to remember her face. I was nothing to her, so she is nothing to me. She replaced me." He gestured angrily towards me.

"Your mother is not the one who walked away from you," Luke said quietly. "Nor did she replace you." He looked to Valentine. "I would have thought even you were above using your own flesh and blood as bait. I suppose I was wrong."

"That's enough," Valentine ordered. "Let go of my daughter, or I'll kill you where you stand."

"This is wrong," I muttered as Luke shoved Clary away from him and the two men began to duel. "Stop her," I said to Jace, doing my best to nod towards Clary who was moving towards the door. By now the front door would be broken down which would mean Forsaken on the other side of that door. Jace, knowing exactly what I meant, was in front of the door – blocking Clary – in half a second. His distraction was exactly what I needed. I needed to get Valentine to do something to break Jace's thin belief in him, and it would have to be something drastic.

Jace was arguing intensely with Clary on the other side of the room but I couldn't hear words over the clashes of Luke's and Valentine's swords. I watched the fight closely, eyes doing their best to track every movement but not quiet managing it completely. If only they would pause for a moment…

Luke broke past Valentine's defenses and caught him across the shoulder, causing Valentine to bleed freely.

"A true hit," Valentine laughed. "I hardly thought you had it in you, Lucian."

"You taught me that move yourself."

"But that was years ago," Valentine continued delicately, "and since then, you've hardly had need of a knife, have you? Not when you have claws and fangs at your disposal."

"All the better to tear your heart out with."

It was like a fairytale gone wrong. Little Red Riding Hood was now a crazy, murderous man and the wolf was someone I considered a relative. At that moment, Jace shouted and Luke glanced over towards him. Valentine took the opportunity to strike.

"_No!_" Moving faster than I'd ever had in my life, I knocked Valentine's arm aside so that the blade skimmed across Luke's skin shallowly. Valentine's furious, fathomless eyes turned to me and he raised the sword, ready to dispatch me in a single stroke.

I waited until he began his swing. I didn't drop to the floor as would be expected, I jumped, tucking my legs and miraculously clearing Valentine's head. There was a resounding clang and Valentine cry out. When I landed crouched in front of him, his sword was no longer in his hand but a few feet away on the floor. Near it was Jace's dagger.

"I think," Jace said quietly, looking at me but speaking to Valentine, "you should leave."

Valentine's face was a mask of pure rage as he stared at his son in disbelief. "_What did you say?_"

Jace reached down to pull me up so I was standing beside him, facing Valentine. "I think you heard me, Father."

"Jonathan Morgenstern-"

Moving even faster than I had, Jace suddenly had the sword in his hand, pointed to Valentine's throat. "That's not my name. My name is Jace Wayland."

I half wanted to run around dancing and singing. Jace was back!

"_Wayland_?" Valentine roared, spit flying. "You have no Wayland blood! Michael Wayland was a stranger to you-"

"So are you," Jace said evenly. "Now move." He signaled with the sword to the left.

"Never. I will not take orders from a child."

Without moving the sword, Jace pushed me towards Clary with his right hand. "I am a very well-trained child. You instructed me yourself in the precise art of killing. I only need to move two fingers to cut your throat, did you know that?" He paused momentarily. "I suppose you did."

"You're skilled enough," Valentine said dismissively, not daring to move an inch. "But you could not kill me. You have always been softhearted."

"Perhaps he couldn't," Luke commented, moving up behind Jace. "But I could. And I'm not entirely sure he could stop me."

For the first time I saw a flicker of fear in Valentine's eyes as he faced the four of us, standing between him and the door. And then he began to back up.

"We need the Cup back!" I cried. "Where is it?"

Valentine smiled at me, standing directly in front of the mirror now, Jace having followed him still held the sword at his throat. "In idris," Valentine said. "Where you will never find it."

Jace must have seen me in the mirror as I took a step closer. "Jaci, stay over there."

I ignored him and moved to stand just behind him, pulling a seraph blade from his belt.

"Jaci," he said with exasperation.

"She's like her mother," Valentine said, one hand behind him searching the mirror's frame. "Doesn't like to do what she's told."

"Funny how that works."

"Where is the Cup?" Jace demanded.

I knew something was terribly wrong when Valentine smiled. "Not far. Through the looking glass, one might say." He dropped his hand and the image in the mirror changed, displaying a meadow scene. "I told you it was not far," he said, and stepped backward, the mirror shattering behind him.

* * *

I leapt out of way of the raining glass but Jace stood motionless, allowing the shards to pile up around his feet and staring at where the mirror had been. The sword fell from his hand and he bent to pick up a larger piece of the Portal. When he turned it in his hands I caught a small glance of sky.

"Don't," Clary said, stepping forward. "There wasn't anything you could have done."

"Yes, there was," he said roughly, still examining the glass in his hands. "I could have killed him."

"But you didn't," I said quietly, kneeling beside him, not thinking about the glass pressing into my legs through the dress.

His head fell another inch lower. "You don't think I know that?"

I gently took his hands in mine, carefully prying his fingers off of the broken piece of glass. He'd cut his palm on it.

"Jace," I said, scolding him softly, "you've hurt yourself."

He glanced down at the narrow incisions and I kissed his palm. I noticed then that the lower hem of my dress was ripped. I thought nothing of it and ripped off a narrow section, binding it securely around Jace's hand.

"I'm going to talk to Luke," Clary announced to us and moved off.

The moment her back was turned, Jace pulled me to him and I clung to him as tightly as I could.

"When he told me you were my sister," he said in my ear, voice rough, "I wanted to die. Anything would have been better than that. Anything."

"You saved me," I pointed out, closing my eyes and burying my face in his neck.

"No. You saved me."


	30. A Good Kind of Terrified Epilogue

It had only been a few days but it felt like ages since the incidents with Valentine. Clary had since moved in with Luke and Isabelle had since demanded I stay at the Institute, just to be safe. I was still recovering from the effects of the poison. Alec was also still recovering, but thanks to Magnus Bane he would heal completely.

The Institute was subtly different without Hodge around anymore and I wasn't sure if I liked the change or not. I did notice that Isabelle, Alec, and Jace seemed to avoid the library when possible.

I was sitting brushing my hair in front of the vanity table Isabelle had added to my room when a soft knock came at the door.

"Come in."

The door swung open to reveal Jace standing just outside hesitantly. I froze with the brush in midair, completely surprised but secretly ecstatic. We hadn't really spoken since that night, never staying anywhere the other was. On several nights when I had difficulty sleeping, I would find myself outside his door without the nerve to knock. There were so many things I wanted to say to him but I had no idea where to start. Did he even want to talk to me?

"Since when do you knock?" I asked, trying to sound light but my voice shook too much.

"Your hair's really long."

I ran a hand self-consciously through it. It reached about halfway down my back. "Yeah, I've been growing it out for awhile now. Usually I have it around here." I indicated somewhere around my chin. "Well, I guess it's not really usually anymore since it's been like this for over a year… but yeah."

"Yeah, not usually anymore."

I set the brush down and stared at him in the mirror. He rubbed his neck and looked at anything but me. I took the chance to take in and fully appreciate the way his white t-shirt fit him and how his jeans hugged his narrow hips. Try as I might, I couldn't see any connection between Jace and Valentine.

"So, um…" I set the brush down and turned to actually look at him. "How are you?"

He smiled weakly. "We just saw each other twenty minutes ago and you're asking how I am?"

I fidgeted with a lock of my hair, wrapping it around my fingers. "Yeah, I guess I am. We haven't really talked much."

"How am I?" Jace repeated, crossing the threshold of my room and kicking the door shut behind him. "I don't even know, Jaci. How are you?" He was leaning over me, one hand on either side of me on the vanity table.

I swallowed nervously. Now or never. "Terrified."

His lips twisted up with amusement and he rested his forehead against mine. "Terrified, really?"

I nodded fractionally.

"That makes two of us."

"Jace Wayland? Terrified? What brings this about?"

He sighed heavily and moved to sit on the bed. "More things than you can imagine."

Regarding him with curiosity, I got to my feet and sat next to him. "I could try."

"Why are you terrified?"

"Well," I began, playing with the edge of the blanket, "for one, Valentine still has the Cup."

Jace nodded, jaw clenched.

"And secondly…" I couldn't say it. It was too embarrassing. Too ridiculous.

"What?"

"You," I said simply, then realized how badly that sounded. "Us. This whole…" I gestured awkwardly between the two of us, "thing."

He took my hand and flipped it over, tracing the lines of my palm. "But it's a good kind of terrified."

I had nothing to say to that so I changed the subject. "You miss Idris, don't you?"

"It's my home," he whispered, sounding horribly broken again. "I was happy there. It was the only place I was ever happy like that."

"You're happy here."

There was a pause. "When I looked through the Portal and saw Idris, I still wanted to go home more badly than I could have imagined."

"They say home is where the heart is," I said quietly, thinking of the Flynn family. "But isn't it funny how your heart can be one place while home is somewhere else entirely?" My heart was here, my home was there.

"I'm beginning to understand."

"Have you been to see Jocelyn yet?" I asked.

Jace shook his head. "No."

"Me neither. Isabelle won't let me leave the Institute," I said, smiling ruefully. "She's afraid I'll drop dead the moment I'm out of her sight."

"You do have a bad habit of getting into bad situations."

I scowled at him. "I can get myself out of them too."

"I know," he admitted, gazing at me in amazement. "That's what's so frightening about it. It's like you know what's coming next."

"Oh, well," I spluttered. "I-"

"Relax, Jaci." He smiled at me, displaying that wonderfully chipped tooth.

"How'd that happen?" I asked.

"How'd what happen?"

I pushed on his tooth hard enough that it rocked him backwards. "That."

He grabbed my wrist and held it captive. "It's a great story. We were tracking a Drevak demon through the subway, trying to find out who sent it-"

"A great story?" I interrupted, feigning a yawn. "Sounds fantastic."

Jace grinned devilishly. "Not interested in my story, Catori?"

I smiled. "Why do you call me 'Catori'? Obviously I know it's my middle name but still."

"You told me not to call you 'Fray'."

I thought that over. "That seems legit, I guess. Humpf," I shoved Jace's hair out of his eyes and it fell back immediately, "doesn't that bother you?"

He shook his head, settling his golden curls where they had been before I disturbed them. "No."

I tugged at one lock playfully, letting it bounce back like a spring.

"Hey," he protested.

"Sorry, your hair's just adorable."

He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, breaking eye contact and releasing my hands.

"What?"

Jace shook his head. "Never mind."

I tried to make him look at me. "What?"

"Before, you told Isabelle that Luke said you were adopted. Do you know who your parents are?"

"I think the verb 'were' is more correct there. And no, I don't. But I'm not a Fray. I've been considering going by Fairchild but I figure Jaelyn Fairchild is just too close to Jocelyn Fairchild."

"Well," said Jace, leaning back on his elbows, "if my opinion matters, I like Jaelyn Catori just fine."

I let myself actually laugh for the first time in days. "Why would you think your opinion matters?"

"My opinion always matters," he answered simply.

"Sure it does," I muttered, resisting the urge to curl up next to him and use his stomach as a pillow.

"Jaci?" he said timidly.

Forget resisting anything. I did exactly like I wanted to, probably surprising him a bit. "What?"

He wrapped his arms around me and repositioned us so we were lying more conventionally on the bed, my head now on his shoulder. "I think I'm over being terrified.

* * *

**After three (about) months, Exist has finally drawn to a close. I would like to thank you all so very very insanely much for reading and reviewing! This never would have been finished if not for you lovelies, stay steller.**

**Also, I'm going to post chapter the first of Endure as soon as I possibly can so be looking out for that if you would like to continue this epic adventure with our darling Jaci. Well, until then! -huggles-**

_Let me riddle you a ditty, it's just an itty bitty little thing on my mind  
About a boy and a girl, trying to take on the word one kiss at a time.  
Now the funny thing about, ain't a story without it, but the story is mine  
And I wish you could say, that it ended just fine._

_We all want to know how it ends._

_Oh, happily ever after, wouldn't you know, wouldn't you know?  
Oh, skip to the ending, who'd like to know? I'd like to know  
Author of the moment, can you tell me, do I end up, do I end up happy?_

**(Happily Ever After by He Is We) **


	31. TEASER

**I've been working on the first chapter of Endure/reading CoFA. It's quite good, actually. Darker than the rest of the series but good. Anyway... it was requested that I would post here when I started Endure well, I'm probably not going to be starting it tonight (I might be, I have yet to decide) but I decided to post some of the best quotes from chapter one. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Children, children. Don't fight."

"You do realize we're all older than you, right?"

* * *

"Why, exactly, did you want me to tag along, Izzy?"

"Because, it's more fun when you're there. Helps balance out the estrogen to testosterone ratios."

* * *

"It wasn't that bad."

"Alec's right, Jaci. It could have gone worse. Not very likely, but it could have."

* * *

"Mom, this is Jaci. A friend of ours."

"Jaci what? Morgenstern? Valentine's unprecedented daughter?"

* * *

"Maybe she still thinks I'm Valentine's daughter?"

"I don't know why she would. You've already proven it to be impossible. No, my guess is it's because she doesn't know whose daughter you are."

"I'm probably just the not important illegitimate child of some random, not important Shadowhunter couple. Well, at least I hope I am."

"Somehow, I doubt it."

* * *

"Shower in my bathroom and I'll draw your _iratze_ for you. I'm quite good at them."

"_That's _your excuse? Are you sure you don't just want me stripping in your bathroom?"

"While that may be an ulterior motive, I'm sticking with the first one."

* * *

"Jaci?"

"Could you knock next time?"

"Sorry. Do you want me to Mark you now?"

"I would like to finish getting dressed first."

"I don't think that would make much difference."

* * *

"What are you doing?"

"Taking a shower."

"Oh Angel. Is there a particular reason why you have to do this _in front of me?_"

"No, you just happen to be here and I didn't have the heart to kick you out."


End file.
